


Aerie

by Sugarbowl



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bed & Breakfast, Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Frottage, Intrigue, M/M, Oral Sex, Sort of a Mystery but Pretty Obvious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 42,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22057624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugarbowl/pseuds/Sugarbowl
Summary: Jinyoung & Yugyeom are just starting to see their bed & breakfast venture flourish. In hopes of further success, they've hired a part-timer to assist with their first winter season. On the surface, Jaebeom brings little more than an extra set of hands and too many cats, but Jinyoung's convinced there's more to his story. And of course, the guests aren't without secrets of their own.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Jackson Wang, Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Kim Yugyeom
Comments: 205
Kudos: 457





	1. Checking In

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends!
> 
> I've been working on this B&B AU ever since [Hard Carry 2](https://www.vlive.tv/video/94951/playlist/92169). Aerie is loosely based on it, obviously with some tweaks for the story. 
> 
> I don't know anything about running a bed & breakfast, nor do I know anything about running away from some shady past, but here we are! So apologies if I get anything wrong ;3
> 
> I have a good portion of this started but really wanted to push myself to finish it, so I decided to start posting chapters even though it's not all wrapped up yet. Hopefully you guys enjoy the ride!

“I thought we’d already agreed on this,” Yugyeom says. “We’re getting a part-timer. He arrives today.”

“I already have a handle on everything around here,” Jinyoung says, adding a flourish to the end of the word  _ ‘Welcome.’  _ The chalk sounds as sharp as his tone. “Are you implying I’m not effective in my role?”

“I’m not calling you incompetent,” Yugyeom grumbles, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He watches, silent for another moment as Jinyoung starts rewriting their traditional list of rules. “I just think an extra set of hands would be helpful.”

“When have I let anything slip by?” Jinyoung counters, carefully spelling out Yugyeom’s favorite rule about dancing on command.

“Last autumn,” Yugyeom supplies, unintimidated as ever. “You fell behind on a load of laundry, and that banker’s wife called us, wondering where the towels were.”

He’s younger than Jinyoung, but holds the slimmest majority of ownership. _52%._ He takes teasing well, and still calls Jinyoung _hyung,_ even when they’re around customers. But he’s always steady in his business decisions, and Jinyoung usually doesn’t put up much resistance.

“I was not behind,” Jinyoung says, chalk moving in a blur. “I was helping you with the crab boil, and had laundry scheduled for that afternoon, but their party surprised us by checking in early.”

“I had to sprint up the mountain to get one of  _ our _ towels,” Yugyeom says. “And then I had to run all the way back down, pop into their room — boom, she’s naked. Her husband nearly cut my head off.”

“It was just a fireplace poker,” Jinyoung says, hardly batting a lash. “I doubt he could have severed the spinal cord.”

“We could have had _ someone else _ on laundry duty,” says Yugyeom. “And the towels would’ve just… been there.”

They run a quietly flourishing bed & breakfast. It’s only been open for three years, and they typically close for winters. The road up the mountain gets a little too treacherous when it’s icy. 

Jinyoung’s always thought the forest valley view from the terrace is its most breathtaking when sprinkled with snow. But the labor of shoveling the driveway every day would be too burdensome with just two of them on staff. 

Other daily tasks already keep them busy, and maintaining an effortless, approachable vibe is important for guests.

_ Aerie _ is a luxurious, modern compound with just eight neatly curated rooms, for maximum exclusivity. Guests are instructed to approach Jinyoung or Yugyeom for anything they need. Their signature level of personalized service doesn’t mix well with disappearing for a few hours and coming back sweaty and covered in ice and mud. 

So Yugyeom had suggested hiring a part-time position. Just to try out for a winter season, to keep the road clear and help out in extra places.

Jinyoung had been stubborn, but he’s always been the one who's more resistant to change. The bed and breakfast was Yugyeom’s pet project from the beginning. While Jinyoung had been eager to hitch onto the daydream and invest with him, when it comes to making final decisions he often flounders. 

This is why Yugyeom is majority owner, and why he often has to coax Jinyoung into their next steps.

“His name is Lim Jaebeom,” Yugyeom says.

Jinyoung actually stops writing this time. He looks up at Yugyeom with his eyebrows set low and straight over his eyes. 

“I thought you said tonight was the final round of interviews,” Jinyoung says. “You’ve already hired someone?”

“It  _ is _ the final stage,” Yugyeom says. “It’s just... down to Jaebeom-ssi.”

Jinyoung blinks at him, face still stony and expectant.

“Down to _welcoming_ him,” Yugyeom clarifies, shifting his weight to the other leg. “Down to him meeting you. Getting the tour. And picking up keys.” 

“He’s already signed all the paperwork?” Jinyoung asks, exasperated.

“Of course,” says Yugyeom, laughing. He stumbles a cautious step away as Jinyoung stands up beside the little chalkboard. “I told you I’d handle everything!”

“I thought everything meant  _ screening _ candidates,” Jinyoung says, stepping forward. “You certainly let me think I would have  _ some _ say in this.”

“It’s a trial run for all of us,” Yugyeom says, confident. But he still takes another step backward. “If our winter goes well, we can reassess how we feel heading into spring. But if you really think we don’t need him, maybe you want to chip in for a snowplow??”

Jinyoung looks sour, crossing his arms. “I just think it’ll be… different,” he says.

Yugyeom claps his hands together with an exasperated little sigh. “Different can be  _ good,” _ he says. “Different can be great! Switching to our own thing was great, right? Better than folding towels as middle managers in a Son Hotel, right?”

Jinyoung gazes out one of their enormous windows, lips twisted. “Hyunwoo had a great dick,” he says, wistfully.

Yugyeom coughs, and shifts it into a tired laugh. “So I’ve _heard,”_ he says. “But would you have really been content just… riding an heir into retirement? Without ever being acknowledged publicly, without seeing any real advancement in our careers?”

Jinyoung frowns, pouting deeply as if he’s seriously considering it.

“No,” Yugyeom cuts him off before he can answer. “You wouldn’t. You get restless, hyung. I know you. You’re scared of change, but your heart wants  _ purpose.” _

Jinyoung turns back to him with the ghost of an eye roll, but Yugyeom knows he’s got him on board now.

_ “Aerie _ is supposed to be that,” Yugyeom says. “Starting it was important, but seeing it grow is what’s going to be amazing. The guests deserve our full attention. So if hiring some help can free us up a little, why wouldn’t we try it?”

“I don’t know,” says Jinyoung. “What if he’s a con man, trying to take all our money?”

Yugyeom chuckles. “Oh hyung,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s cute how you call it  _ our money _ . When you know it’s mostly mine. _ ” _

“52%,” Jinyoung grits out, and there’s a loud buzz. 

They both glance toward the entrance, and then back at each other. Jinyoung is glaring, still.

“I’ll let him in,” Yugyeom concedes, waving a hand at him. “Why don’t you get some tea started?”

He’s off through the sunroom already, and Jinyoung flounders nervously for a second more, before bustling off to the kitchen.

He’s angrily plopping tea leaves into their steeping pot when Yugyeom leads the part-timer into the dining room. Jinyoung feels his face flush as some of the dried leaves scatter uselessly onto the counter.

Lim Jaebeom is handsome.

He’s not quite  _ idol _ handsome, Jinyoung thinks. Well, maybe — maybe just not maxed out on whatever eyelid/nose-job trainee combo so many of them get slapped with.

Jaebeom has sharp, smart eyes, and a straight, handsome nose with a gentle bump in it. His shoulders are broad, and Jinyoung can’t tell if they’re enhanced or distorted by the way his oversized tee and silky bomber jacket hang off him, casual and comfortable.

He’s in a beanie, but Jinyoung spots a length of hair grown out at the back of his neck. A good couple inches, and colored. It looks frosty, a silvery shade of blue. Jinyoung feels his fingers twitching involuntarily, and he has to tear his eyes back to his task. He’s always been weak for longer hair.

Once Jinyoung has finally poured some hot water from the kettle and gotten everything fussed about and angled nicely on his tray, he shuffles over to the table.

Jaebeom is staring directly at him, unafraid to meet his eyes.

“Lim Jaebeom-ssi,” Yugyeom gestures between them as Jinyoung sits beside him. “This is my colleague.”

“Park Jinyoung,” Jinyoung introduces himself, extending a hand.

Jaebeom just  _ looks _ at it for a beat, as if he’s memorizing its form, before finally grasping and shaking it. He looks Jinyoung in the eye again, and Jinyoung tries not to shy away from the intensity of his gaze.

Silence settles across the table, icy like a blanket of snow.

“So,” Jinyoung says, informally. “You’re here.”

Yugyeom shifts in his seat with a tight smile, looking like he’s about to interrupt. But Jaebeom raises his eyebrows and beats him to it.

“Excuse me,” Jaebeom says. “How old are you?”

“That’s none of your business,” Jinyoung informs him. “I’m your boss.”

“Ah,” Yugyeom serves up a mug of tea and slides across to Jaebeom apologetically. “I know it might be surprising, since we’re both pretty young. But we both have solid experience in the hospitality industry.  _ Aerie _ has established itself very well, I assure you.”

“Mm,” Jaebeom fidgets with the cup, eyes still flickering between them. “It’s a beautiful location. I’m looking forward to seeing more of it.”

Yugyeom nods and beams at him, as Jinyoung slurps from his own glass loudly. Yugyeom giggles a bit then, patting Jinyoung roughly on the shoulder. Jinyoung sets his cup down very deliberately, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you two…?” Jaebeom starts to ask, and the loathing curl of Jinyoung’s lip seems to immediately quiet him.

“Oh we’re not a couple,” Yugyeom says, turning back with a bright smile. “We’re just friends who’ve known each other a long time. This place was a shared dream of ours, and now we’re excited about how much it can grow. So we’re hoping you can help us there.”

“We’ll see,” Jinyoung says, cynically.

Yugyeom hums, suddenly sitting up straighter. “So now!” He declares. “We’ll go over some of your daily tasks: keeping the drive clear, chopping firewood, and handling the laundry. I understand you have some cooking experience as well?”

Jaebeom looks a little uncomfortable, for the first time. “Er,” he says. “Did the recruiter say that? It’s informal, just — homestyle. I wouldn’t feel comfortable advertising that to guests or anything.”

“I understand,” says Yugyeom, smiling. “We only offer simple breakfasts and dinners, so it’s all our own  _ homestyle _ too. But if you’d help us out sometimes, and maybe up at our cabin—?”

Jinyoung’s cup rattles as he sets it down angrily. “He’ll be in our  _ home??” _ He asks, ears flushing.

“Well,” Yugyeom glances between them nervously. “If Jaebeom-ssi would like to? I was thinking, we could arrange for you to stay in our extra bedroom,” he says, voice high and thin as he watches Jinyoung’s horrified reaction, and then turns back to Jaebeom with a shrug. “Or you could use a guest room here! At _Aerie._ For a small deduction of pay?”

Jaebeom looks a little taken aback, rubbing his neck as he seems to consider the options.

“Excuse me,” Jinyoung cuts in. “Kim Yugyeom. I could have sworn you’d described his role here as  _ part-time, _ didn’t you?”

“Well it seems a little silly to send someone all the way back down the mountain, through the snow every day,” Yugyeom says.

“Oh,” Jinyoung says, icy. “Now I’m silly? Earlier I was just incompetent.”

“I never said either and you know it!” Yugyeom whines, slapping Jinyoung’s elbow until he draws back and crosses his arms tightly over himself. “Stop being such a difficult hyung.”

“We’d only have seven rooms if he takes one,” Jinyoung nitpicks, but it’s softened.

“Seven is a lucky number,” Yugyeom says, grinning at him and hovering in close enough to annoy him with a tickle of his breath on his cheek. Jinyoung stubbornly keeps his eyes fixed on his teacup instead of reacting.

“I’d appreciate a room regardless,” Jaebeom says a moment later, and when Jinyoung peeks over, his eyes are darting curiously between them. “Is it alright if I keep my cats with me?”

“Oh,” Yugyeom says, as he and Jinyoung both startle. “Um, I’m actually allergic. So it wouldn’t be  _ great _ at our place...”

“Then I’ll take the deduction and stay here,” Jaebeom says. “They’re very important to me.”

Yugyeom hums fondly around a sip of tea now, but Jinyoung immediately frowns. Is this guy for real?

“How many cats do you have?” Jinyoung asks.

“Five,” says Jaebeom, raising his chin. As if he’s daring Jinyoung to say it’s too many. And Jinyoung probably would, if he didn’t think Yugyeom had already made up his mind.

Yugyeom chokes on his tea. “Five!” He echoes. “Wow, you really—?”

“It used to be six,” Jaebeom says, voice lower. “Before.”

For just a moment, Jinyoung imagines a dark cartoon cloud settling heavy around Jaebeom’s brow. Maybe he’s more pitiable than intimidating, all hung up over an old cat passing away. 

“Well,” Yugyeom says, clearing his throat. “I’ll put you in one of our singles without a rug. Hopefully there’s enough room for everybody! Would you like me to show you there, and give you a quick tour? We’ll just have you get acquainted tonight and then you can head up tomorrow with your things.”

Jaebeom nods, bowing his head slightly. “Thank you,” he says.

Jinyoung watches them meander out of the dining room. Yugyeom shoots him one last silly expression with innocently shrugged shoulders. Jinyoung takes it to mean: _ I know the cat thing is weird, but give this guy a chance. _

Jinyoung isn’t entirely sold. Jaebeom has a strange aura to him, and not just because Jinyoung’s feeling cranky. 

There’s a sense of quiet desperation there, and while the cat predilection paints a dull, lonely picture, Jinyoung isn’t sure that’s all there is to his story.

But then, maybe Jinyoung’s just misreading their chemistry. Jaebeom is new, and attractive, and Jinyoung’s social receptors have a tendency to go haywire when they’re a little rusty.

A buzz of the doorbell breaks him out of his thoughts. Their first guest. He’d forgotten about their first winter bookings already — so much for the part-timer helping ease his mind.

Jinyoung sweeps out to the front door, snatching his little appointment book off the kitchen counter as he goes.

“Welcome!” He calls as he opens the door, stepping aside so the guest can shoulder in. He’s a little shorter than Jinyoung, but he looks muscular as he peels off his puffy coat to reveal a taut turtleneck. The door shuts quietly behind him, a sharp mountain breeze gusting in around their ankles.

“Hey man,” the guest says, eyes twinkling. “I’m Jackson.” He reaches out for Jinyoung’s hand, and then unexpectedly folds him into a half-hug.

Jinyoung doesn’t realize it’s happening until his face is tucked into the stranger’s neck, and he lets out a tiny  _ yip _ of surprise. 

Jackson releases him then, and Jinyoung’s somehow left holding his frosty coat.

“Ah,” Jinyoung murmurs, crossing to hang it on the nearby rack. “Welcome to  _ Aerie, _ sir.” He follows helplessly as Jackson heads into the main house without waiting for him to lead, wide eyes taking everything in.

“Jackson Wang,” Jinyoung reads from his planner, finally catching up to him by the kitchen. “You’ll be staying in our  _ Fireside _ suite, upstairs on the east side.”

Jackson turns back around, duffle bag loud as he lets it drop to the ground. “Awesome,” he says, and then his eyes linger and trail down Jinyoung’s form. 

“Everything up here looks gorgeous,” he purrs. “You the owner?”

_ “Co-,” _ Jinyoung says, feeling examined. “Co-owner.”

Jackson nods slowly, leaning against the table in a way that obviously shows off the shape of his biceps. “Gorgeous,” he repeats.

Jinyoung resists the impulse to fan his flushing face with his book, and snaps out of the moment as he hears Yugyeom’s laughing voice and footsteps approaching. He and Jaebeom round the corner and slow down to greet their visitor.

“Good morning!” Yugyeom chirps, stepping forward to shake Jackson’s hand. Jackson gives him the same handshake-into-hug treatment, but Yugyeom lights up with it, outright beaming.

“I’m Kim Yugyeom,” Yugyeom gestures towards himself, and then Jinyoung. “Park Jinyoung and I are partners here. This is Lim Jaebeom, he’s just started working with us for the winter season.”

“Jackson,” Jackson introduces himself crisply, and he gives Jaebeom a similar stroke of his eyes. But they don’t shake hands, nodding instead as Jaebeom seems to keep some distance.

“Please let us know if there’s anything you need,” Yugyeom says. “Jaebeom-ssi, could you take Mr. Wang’s bag? Up to—?” and he glances at Jinyoung.

“The  _ Fireside _ suite,” Jackson cuts in, handing the duffel over. 

Jaebeom takes it none too gently, turning away without a word. Jinyoung has to hold himself back from reprimanding him in front of a guest. How is he expecting to make any tips? And they’ve got a reputation to uphold here.

He turns to shoot a sharp expression at Yugyeom in complaint, but his colleague is already strolling towards the kitchen. 

“Mr. Wang,” he calls out. “Can I interest you in a drink?”

Jackson follows, but not before smirking at Jaebeom’s retreating figure one more time. Jinyoung feels the hair on his arms raise. This guy comes off a little thirsty. He makes a mental note to be cautious around him.

“Hmm, chocolate milk?” Jackson asks, pulling up a stool at the counter.

“Er,” Yugyeom hesitates, but takes a step toward the fridge. “Of course.”

“I’m just kidding,” Jackson says, waving his arms with a cackle. “I’m just — sorry, man, you look so young. Whiskey. On the rocks, please.” 

Yugyeom gives a sharp nod, veering toward the bar cart instead, and Jinyoung knows he’s genuinely relieved. No need to dip into his personal stash after all.

“May I ask what brings you to town?” Yugyeom asks, over the clank of ice cubes. “It’s so nice up here in winter, isn’t it?”

“I’m here to snowboard,” Jackson says, “I’m sure you’re familiar with some of the resorts further up the road. I don’t like chain hotels, so I was excited to find you guys in the area.”

“I didn’t see a board,” Jinyoung says, glancing towards the stairs. He can’t help recalling the vivid image of Jaebeom slinging the bag over his broad back, shoulder blades flexing noticeably under the slide of his shirt. 

“I’ll just be renting,” Jackson says with an easy smile. “You have no idea; I’ve barely got room for myself in my apartment back in the city, let alone sports gear.”

Jinyoung nods, feeling sheepish as he realizes it might’ve come across nosy. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he says. “It’s our first winter open, so I’m still curious about what guests need. We do have some equipment lockers, if you’d brought anything.”

“That’s good to know,” Jackson says, nodding his thanks as Yugyeom slides a glass across the counter. Jackson stares down into it for a moment. 

“I just needed a break,” he breathes out, quieter now. “I love life in the city, don’t get me wrong. I like to keep busy, stay on my grind. But there’s so much left to see out here, and it’s healthy to stand still for a little bit.”

“I’m not sure how still you’ll be staying,” Yugyeom says, wiping down the counter. “Some of those trails are no joke.”

Jackson chuckles, taking a sip. His eyes flicker over the rim towards Jinyoung again. His eyes are a deep brown, warm like the whiskey in his glass.

“I’m looking forward to plenty of  _ downtime _ too,” he rumbles, shooting him a wink.

Jinyoung flushes, pushing away from the counter. 

“There’s a spa bathtub in your en suite!” Yugyeom says, a little oblivious. “We’ll keep your fireplace stocked with firewood, and we have a heated indoor pool as well. Plenty of ways to relax.”

Jackson stops eying Jinyoung, and peeks curiously between them as if something’s just struck him. “So you two…” he hums. “Married?”

Jinyoung shakes his head, letting out a short bark of a laugh. “No,” he says.

There’s the soft sound of Jaebeom’s sock feet then, as he rejoins the group. 

Jinyoung can sense a slight buzz in his spine, from the closeness of his body heat beside him. But he resists the urge to tremble or shift away from Jaebeom and instead puts on a smile and a shrug for Jackson. “We went to school together,” he says. “Yugyeom and I have been through too much together for it to work.”

“Jaebeom-ssi,” Yugyeom waves, “let me show you around the kitchen for a minute. In case you need to use anything.”

Jaebeom crowds close behind Jinyoung to get by, since there’s little room to approach the counter. Jinyoung nearly holds his breath, ribs up and back taut, and he bites his lip as Jaebeom’s shoulder brushes his. He smells a bit like the pine trees outside, mixed with something warm, ambery.

Jinyoung lets out a wobbly breath. He wills himself not to look at Jaebeom, and finds Jackson’s gaze instead, already waiting for him in the next blink.

“Been through too much,” Jackson repeats. “Not sure if that’s a nonstarter, in my experience — but I hear you. Guess it doesn’t always happen.”

Jinyoung ruffles a bit at the prodding. “We work well together,” he says, with his most professional smile.

“And how are you liking the new guy?” Jackson nods toward the fridge, where Yugyeom is showing Jaebeom how he keeps an entire drawer full of chocolate milk.

“You know how it is with growing pains,” Jinyoung says, and feels Jaebeom’s eyes dart back at him. “We appreciate your patience during his training.”

//

Their next guests for the season whirl in early the next morning.

First is a pair of lean, babyfaced figures. The blond one introduces himself first, slipping off enormous sunglasses to look Yugyeom in the eye. The guest slips the tip of them into his mouth, pensive, as Yugyeom stares back, struck uncharacteristically silent.

“Welcome to  _ Aerie,” _ Jinyoung cuts in, pinching Yugyeom in the elbow.

Yugyeom clears his throat and then nods cheerfully, finally finding his phone and tapping through to the calendar.

“It’s under Bhuwakul,” the guest says, lips slipping around the name with native ease, “but you should call me BamBam. That string bean is Mark.” He gestures back over his shoulder.

Mark has already wandered off a few paces — but at the sound of his name, he turns and shoots a handsome grin at them. 

“What brings you up here?” Yugyeom asks, and then reaches for BamBam’s bag. BamBam watches, eyes dancing.

“We do a lot,” Mark supplies, stepping back towards them. “I model and BamBam and I both do videos and live-streams. You know, Instagram and all that. He’s better with the business side, so he’s my manager. We came for the view, basically.”

“Oh,” says Yugyeom. “You stream? I love all the mukbang stuff.”

BamBam snorts. “We don’t do those kind of live-streams,” he says, glancing at Mark. They share a knowing smile.

“Not yet,” Mark says, and his smile spreads wide and toothy. “But we should definitely try it.”

BamBam seems less sold on the idea, but Jinyoung thinks the way he looks at Yugyeom shows off a pretty appetite.

“You two are in our  _ Sunrise _ room,” Yugyeom says, gesturing towards the staircase. “I’ll show you the way.”

Jackson is heading down just as Yugyeom leads them up the stairs, and he slows visibly. There’s a moment of thick, tangible tension as he and Mark, and then he and BamBam, and then — BamBam and Mark? — look quite pointedly at each other. 

Jinyoung lets out something shy of a snort, turning away in disbelief. Is everyone up here a nymphomaniac, he wonders to himself. Is there something about the winter season? Maybe it’s some kind of cabin fever.

Jinyoung can feel Jackson’s gaze on the back of his neck then, and he turns back with a stiff smile. “Good morning Mr. Wang,” he says. “Off to the slopes?”

Jackson glances back toward the staircase as if he’s contemplating otherwise, and he shoots Jinyoung a crooked grin. “In a bit,” he says. “Plenty of sightseeing right around here, isn’t there?”

“Would you like to borrow a trails map?” Jinyoung suggests, saccharine sweet. “Go for a brisk walk and cool down, maybe?”

Jackson has the grace to look a bit embarrassed then, if only for a moment. He tilts his head as if he’s been slapped, and then nods slowly. “Sorry,” he says. “That was a bit much, huh? I’m just not usually around this many attractive people. It’s kind of blowing my mind.”

Jinyoung raises his eyebrows, unsure about this gush of information, but he can’t help but relate. A laugh bubbles out of him in spite of himself, and he nods along.

“You  _ really _ don’t get a break very often, do you?” Jinyoung asks, busying himself with organizing the bar cart.

“You have no idea,” Jackson sighs, slumping down into a seat. 

A beat passes, but it’s companionable silence, Jackson watching as Jinyoung polishes a glass. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Jackson says, leaning in across the countertop.

Jinyoung’s chest flutters — he can’t help it. Here’s this earnest, handsome face, whispering to him. Jinyoung knows it’s a bad idea, to get too close to guests. Or even other people on staff. 

People in hotels, they’re escaping something. It’s not always a seedy reason. But sometimes, the visit itself is one big secret, booked under a different name or with a false premise. And then they check out, and the secret stays. Gets snuffed out like a flame. And anything that’s left gets stripped away, like another set of sheets.

Jinyoung knows he shouldn’t lean in, shouldn’t be so eager. But he’s stayed in this industry for a reason — and he likes the way his pulse picks up, the way his mind is already rattling off a dozen seamy, cliché scenarios.

“I’m…” Jackson’s voice is pitched low. Jinyoung fills in the blank:  _ a royal, a bank robber, a whore, a priest. _

But then Jackson smiles, sort of sad and sleepy. And Jinyoung knows what he’s going to say before it passes through his lips, because his heart echoes the same sad smile right back at him.

“A little lonely,” Jackson admits.

And Jinyoung’s whole countenance softens, nodding slow and gentle now. It’s the most common secret in the world, he thinks.

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Jinyoung says. “If you’d like to just relax. We have a Wii?” He offers a shrug.

Jackson shrugs it off then, breaking back into a more genuine smile. “Gimme the trails map,” he says. “A hike sounds good!”

Jinyoung hesitates for a moment, thrown by the swing in his mood, but then he’s bowing shortly and hurrying over to their bookcase.

He sees Jackson off from the doorway, and bites his lip. He’d thought winter would bring lower-key guests than the warm months. But this batch is something else.

//

Later in the same day, a young man in billowy, soft-looking trousers strolls in, toting a tiny dog. He’s followed by two whispering men in less interesting pants.

Jinyoung greets all three, but keeps a curious eye on the youngest as he wanders straight through into the kitchen, clutching his dog close.

“It’s under Lorenzo,” the oldest man says, checking a watch and then shoving drooping glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Choi Lorenzo. _Yes,_ the massively famous singer.”

Jinyoung blinks back and forth between him and his notebook, nodding as he crosses out the check-in appointment. He doesn’t recognize the name, but Yugyeom might know of him.

“You’ll be in our  _ Poolside _ villa,” Jinyoung informs him, offering a key. 

“Ah,” the older man plucks the keyfob out of his grip but pokes it roughly into his other companion’s hand instead. “I’m just management, dropping off. Lorenzo deserves a good break from me. Mino here is going to be the second occupant. He’s on security detail, so please inform him immediately if you spot any intrepid  _ Lorenzonators.” _

“Oh my,” Jinyoung murmurs, and he inspects the other man’s face more closely. He has an intimidating feel to him, but he looks younger than Jinyoung would expect for a security guard. “Should we be expecting something like that? Even in this weather?”

Mino shrugs, and Jinyoung watches the silver hoops in his ears swing with the nonchalant gesture. “We just like to keep communication open with you guys,” he says. “Protocol. Do you have anyone working security?”

Jinyoung pauses, thinking about Lim Jaebeom and his equally intimidating gaze. “Not officially,” he says, and shuts his planner. “It’s a small, friendly operation. But we all keep an eye out.”

Mino seems satisfied with this answer, and drifts off in another direction. The manager doesn’t seem bothered, paying Jinyoung in cash and then shouting a brusque goodbye. 

Jinyoung tucks the conspicuous bundle of bills away, cheeks flushing.  For a moment he wonders if he had missed Lorenzo’s exit as well, but when he goes to check, the idol is still poking around in the kitchen, dog slung over a shoulder.

Mino is strolling out by the pool. Jinyoung assumes he’s scoping everything out as a safety measure. He has a sharp, calculating gaze.

“Lo… Lorenzo?” Jinyoung trails after the idol now instead, watching as he rustles at a bowl of oranges.

Seemingly satisfied with whichever one rolled out onto the table, he plucks the fruit up and then turns to wave it at him in greeting. “You can call me Youngjae,” he says, “Lorenzo is my stage name.”

“Oh,” Jinyoung falters, feeling embarrassed. He really wishes Yugyeom had warned him, so he could do some research. Celebrity guests always respond best to a little special treatment. “I’m so sorry, I’m not familiar with your work.”

“It’s fine,” Youngjae says, patting his dog cheerfully on the bottom. “I’m sort of relieved to hear it, actually. My managers are forcing me to take this vacation — they say I’m under too much stress now. And I guess after the phone stuff, they’re probably right.”

“Phone stuff?” Jinyoung repeats, and then feels guilty for prying. 

But Youngjae just chuckles in response, shifting the dog in his arms so that she flops like a little baby on her back. “I’m not allowed phone privileges right now,” he says. “My number got sold and I kept getting death threats and stuff. So they took that away and sent me up here for a bit.”

Jinyoung gapes at him silently for a moment, feeling a little horrified. “But—! Why should  _ you _ lose privileges for that?? How do you contact your family? That wasn’t  _ your fault,” _ and he’s rambling now, already nose-deep in Youngjae’s personal, professional business. 

He really needs to stop getting involved with the guests.

“It’s fine,” Youngjae assures him. “My manager and bodyguard have everybody important’s info. Honestly, I’m kinda grateful to get a little break out of it. It’s beautiful up here. And I can eat whatever I want when manager hyung isn’t around!” He starts to peel into his orange then, while still juggling his dog.

Jinyoung reaches out to help him with the fruit, but ends up with his arms full of white fluff instead.

“This is Coco,” Youngjae says, peeling with more gusto now that he’s got both hands free. “She’s kind of spoiled, so I’m sorry ahead of time, about any noise complaints or damages. You can always fine my room, if you need to.”

“A-ha,” Jinyoung hums, looking down into Coco’s blank face, innocent for now. “So you’re a princess.”

“Me too,” Youngjae giggles, around a bite of orange.

Jinyoung blinks back up at him in surprise, and then lets out a short, loud laugh. He wants so quickly to agree, to chime in with  _ same, _ like they’ve been friends for ages. And it surprises him, knocks the wind out of him a little bit. 

But in retrospect, he’s grateful. At least  _ one  _ of their guests seems normal. Although it _is_ strange that it ends up being the celebrity.

//

The next morning, Jinyoung wrinkles his nose as a bit of bark crunches under his boot on the concrete. He turns away from the main house and frowns out across the patio. Sure enough, there’s a trail here: broken bits of firewood, mucking up the smooth pavement. 

And out by the firepit, a now-familiar figure.

“Yah!” Jinyoung calls out. “Newbie! You’re supposed to use the cart for the firewood — you’re littering bark chips everywhere.”

Jaebeom turns around with fierce eyes, and Jinyoung can’t help but flinch as he dumps the logs in his arms hard against the concrete. He’s over to Jinyoung’s side of the pool in a flash, suddenly too close and body radiating heat.

The air is cold out here, the sun still shy on the horizon, but Jaebeom’s eyes are blazing as he leans in. “I know you’re younger than me,” he says, breath puffing in a little angry cloud.

“So?” Jinyoung asks, planting hands at his waist.

“Yugyeom  _ told _ me!” Jaebeom says, oddly triumphant. “You may have been born in ‘94, but in  _ September, _ and I’m January, so—!”

“Yugyeom is your _superior,”_ Jinyoung says, crisply. “And we may be a few months apart, but I’m senior to you so long as we work at _Aerie_ together.”

He turns smoothly on his heel then, intent on striding back toward the house.

“Eight!” Jaebeom says, and suddenly he’s gripping Jinyoung’s wrist.

Jinyoung resists, standing his ground even as Jaebeom whips around him like a windstorm, hovering much too close. And his fingers, slipping down around his wrist still, the pad of his pointer against Jinyoung’s pulse, pinky burying into the flesh of his palm.

Jinyoung’s breath falters, just as they make eye contact. “Eight what?” He can barely get the words out.

“Months,” Jaebeom says, brows low. “You said ‘a few,’ but it’s eight months between us. It’s not a few, it’s not unreasonable.”

“Yugyeom and I have been in charge for _ two years,” _ Jinyoung counters, face flushing. 

“I want—,” and Jaebeom hesitates. Jinyoung feels the drop of his hand as he steps away, putting distance back between them. “I just want to be clear. We should still respect one another.”

“Respect can be earned,” Jinyoung says, and looks down at the trail of bark chips he was following. “Using the proper equipment provided for your tasks would be a good start.”

“I’ll sweep it in a minute,” Jaebeom promises. “The storage for the firepit out here was my last spot.”

Jinyoung takes a moment to consider this, and then he frowns. “No way,” he says. “Distributing the firewood takes like, three hours. It’s still morning.”

Jaebeom’s face contorts in disbelief. “Three hours? If you’re  _ a child,  _ I guess?” He says. “A child pushing a big dumb cart around and fussing with everything. You only have 6 fireplaces, and a firepit. It’s taken me like, forty-five minutes.”

“So now you’re calling me a child,” Jinyoung grits out.

“I’m saying — however you used to do this, was inefficient,” Jaebeom says, offering a shrug. “I’ll sweep up the chips, no problem. But if you really want to tune this place up, let’s do it right.”

Jinyoung is taken aback by how easily Jaebeom inserts himself into  _ Aerie’s _ narrative. While Jinyoung has always figured he and Yugyeom would eventually hire on more staff, he hadn’t felt the timing was right. But Jaebeom sounds like he’s in it for the long haul.

And it embarrasses Jinyoung, slightly, as he’s framed into looking like he doesn’t want what’s best for  _ Aerie. _ So Jinyoung gives him a begrudging nod, and then dips back toward the house with a flush in his cheeks.

//

That evening, Jinyoung is surprised to be invited to play a game with all of the guests. And maybe more surprising, Jackson is the one who initiates it.  Or maybe that’s appropriate, as Jinyoung had gently encouraged him to stick around the compound instead of traipsing off on his own.

Flustered, Jinyoung pays studious attention as Jackson explains the rules of the game.  _ Mafia, _ wherein hapless citizens become a bit of a mob themselves.

“Mafia, reveal yourselves to each other!” Jackson calls at the first night.

Jaebeom and Jinyoung find each other’s eyes across the table. Jinyoung glances away, almost irritated, as Jackson snickers quietly and then gestures for them to put their heads back down.

Of course. They have to work together. 

But somehow, Jinyoung finds himself having a good time. It’s jarring, how easy it is to strategize with Jaebeom, with just a flick of well-timed eyes. They easily pick off Youngjae first, who gasps and pounds at Jackson’s arm in silent shock.

“Ow,” Jackson whispers, “I thought you were a singer, not a boxer.”

Youngjae laughs at this and hits him again, seemingly out of joy this time. But Jackson presses a hand against his chest as if he’s wounded, blinking in surprise.

But then his eyes are glimmering, and he snakes a hand under the table. 

Jinyoung watches, eyes sore from trying to keep his glance sideways and covert, as Jackson tickles Youngjae until he’s gasping.

Jinyoung is curious — he takes a quick peek at Mark and BamBam, who had looked interested in Jackson earlier. But neither seems threatened by his flirtation with Youngjae. In fact, Mark is leaning in and quietly chatting with Jaebeom, gaze heavy on his lips.

“This is suspicious,” Jinyoung blurts out, shaking a finger at Mark.

BamBam and Yugyeom hum loudly in agreement. 

“Yeah,” BamBam says, poking at Mark’s ribs. “What do you have to talk about, if you’re not the Mafia!”

“It’s both of them!” Yugyeom agrees. 

Jaebeom shoots Jinyoung a scolding glare, and it sends a shiver down his spine. Maybe accusing your partner  _ in _ crime  _ of _ crime isn’t the best strategy.

“Oh, it _wasn’t_ game related,” Mark says, with a purr. 

And it alarms Jinyoung, who knows it’s likely true . Face flushing, he glares right back at Jaebeom, unsure why his stomach twists at the thought of them flirting.

“Is that true?” Yugyeom asks BamBam, eyes narrowed. “Can you tell what he’s into?”

BamBam sighs. “Mark’s pretty easy,” he says, as agreeably as Jinyoung’s ever heard the word said. “But I don’t know if he fucks with guys with mullets.”

Jaebeom looks a little embarrassed at this, a self-conscious hand immediately at the back of his neck.

“Anyway,” BamBam says with a dismissive wave, “it doesn’t matter: as Mafia, you’d just deflect too.”

“Like what you’re doing?” Mino suddenly asks.

Youngjae gasps, looking back and forth between his bodyguard and BamBam in surprise. Mark lets out a sharp cackle, actually clapping in delight.

BamBam slouches in disappointment as he realizes what he’s implied. “You aren’t even playing!” He whines at Mino.

Mino simply shrugs, taking a slow, loud draught of his tea.

Youngjae’s giggling loudly still, as Jinyoung and Jaebeom make eye contact. 

Jaebeom nods, imperceptibly.  _ Close one.  _ He turns away first.

Jinyoung lets his eyes linger, indulgent, another moment longer. 

He really  _ is _ handsome, Jinyoung thinks.  _ Unfortunately.  _

More fortunately, Jaebeom doesn’t notice his gaze. 

His own eyes are roving, and Jinyoung can’t quite blame him. Their guests are colorful, all sort of gorgeous and intriguing in their own way. Jaebeom seems most drawn to similarly aggressive energies; gaze flickering between Jackson and Mino like he’s trying to decide on dessert.

Jinyoung tries not to take it personally, running a hand through his hair and turning his attention back to his glass.

//

By breakfast the next morning, Jinyoung’s given himself a good pep talk.  He doesn’t want, let alone  _ need, _ Jaebeom’s attention. And anyway, isn’t Jaebeom kind of weird? 

They’d worked well together in the Mafia game, but Jinyoung isn’t sure if he considers that a positive. A game of deception isn’t exactly a great display of character.

Jinyoung figures he’s given it all too much thought entirely. He really shouldn’t be thinking about Jaebeom while he sets out a Western-style breakfast buffet, after all. Or, like ever. It’s simply unprofessional. That’s his employee, for god’s sake.

Jinyoung sets down a tray of sausage rather forcefully to punctuate his thoughts. One little wiener rolls off, and he sighs wistfully.  _God,_ he misses dick.

Youngjae wanders down for food first, and he’s already feeding scraps of bacon to Coco when Mark and BamBam join them. 

“Good morning,” Mark greets them, stopping to pet the little dog with a bright smile.

BamBam heads straight for the food instead, but he scans Youngjae curiously once he’s settled at the table with the others. 

“Saw you and Jackson stayed up by the TV for a while,” he says, eyes glimmering.

Youngjae flushes, and he pays closer attention to wiping his fingers carefully on a napkin. Coco looks visibly disappointed.

“Oh,” Youngjae hums. “He’s very chatty.”

“And  _ thick,”  _ Mark says. Jinyoung tries not to choke on his coffee.

“You let him get it?” BamBam asks, more directly.

“No!” Youngjae nearly gasps, breath swept up on an embarrassed, runaway train of laughter. “No, we just talked. He’s easy to talk to.”

Jinyoung can’t disagree with him there.

“He likes you,” Mark assures him. “He kept finding excuses to touch you, tickle you.”

Youngjae looks even more sheepish, and his ringed fingers trace the wood grain in the table. It’s silent, but the rhythmic, elegant curl of his touch reminds Jinyoung that he’s a musician. An  _ idol, _ which probably makes this flirtation a little complicated.

“I don’t know,” Youngjae admits. “I don’t know if Mino-ssi would even allow that sort of thing.”

Jinyoung startles a bit, taken aback as he realizes the bodyguard is absent again. “He lets you out of his sight a lot,” he says. “Is that normal?”

Youngjae shrugs. “Depends,” he says. “I think he figures the whole area is safe enough. Most of my other security wouldn’t have done that at a busier hotel, but I guess it’s different here. I’m not going to complain.”

“Then you should definitely get some action while you can,” BamBam says, around a mouthful of sausage. _“Treat_ yourself.”

Youngjae still looks embarrassed, but his expression has softened into something closer to wistful. “I don’t know,” he says. “It’s gotten really hard to tell when things like that are real. When people think that they know you. It’s never real.”

Mark and BamBam both look more endeared, eyes warm. 

“I get that,” Mark says. “We have subscribers who send us gifts, proposals, all kinds of promises and stuff. But they just like what they see. They don’t know us.”

Jinyoung feels himself shiver. It shouldn’t be surprising that everyone struggles with meaningful connections. But it’s been a while since he’s talked to anyone about it.

“It can just be for fun,” BamBam says. “Don’t stress about it.”

Youngjae startles as they hear footsteps, but it’s just Jaebeom wandering in with freshly laundered rags to put away in the kitchen.

Jinyoung tries not to watch him too closely. But then Jaebeom bends over slightly, to organize the rags in their baskets by size, and his jeans strain around his thighs.  _ Thick _ thighs, Jinyoung thinks, remembering how Mark had said it, drawing out the  _ k _ in his mind.

Jaebeom’s upright and shuffling back out to the lumber shed in no time. Jinyoung is startled to realize he’s watched him the whole time, mouth gone so wet he has to choke down his own thirsty saliva.

When he turns back to the others, he’s greeted by matching wide eyes and outright smirks.  _ Of course. _ They’d noticed.

Mark hands him a napkin. Jinyoung accepts it with an unsure, puzzled expression.

“For your drool,” Mark says.

//

  
  



	2. Rooms & Suites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm back with chapter two, and our guests and employees are really starting to make themselves at home. 
> 
> Thank you for all your sweet comments, both on here and twt! I am so happy people are enjoying this little universe, it's been fun dipping back into it and polishing it up to actually share with you guys. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, let me know your thoughts!

“This rule stuff is kinda cheesy,” BamBam says, dragging a fingertip across the chalkboard. It erases part of a decorative swash.

Yugyeom looks up from his lunch, startled. It’s been a strangely quiet couple of days, so he hasn’t been expecting much interaction from the guests.

BamBam is loitering by the board expectantly, legs looking endless in a velour tracksuit and clutching a slim, leather portfolio.

“Oh,” Yugyeom clears his throat. “Bed and breakfasts usually skew pretty cheesy. Part of the charm.”

“I thought bed and breakfasts were stuffy, shitty old houses,” BamBam says. “I was looking for a more modern hotel, but Mark suggested this place as a kind of compromise.”

Yugyeom nods, napkin creasing and un-creasing under fiddling fingertips. “Jinyoung didn’t want to lean too far into that, either,” he says. “But I don’t mind some kitsch. It keeps things warm.”

BamBam glances between Yugyeom and the board in once more before sauntering over to the table. “I’m guessing you don’t get off this mountain very much?” He teases, settling across from him with a smirk.

“Not lately,” Yugyeom agrees, quietly, taking a quick slurp of his soup.

He and BamBam both chuckle over it, but BamBam tilts his head at him as he sobers, looking like a curious puppy.

“Are you and him...?” And he trails off, but his eyebrows waggle out the rest.

“You mean am I _with_ Jinyoung hyung?” Yugyeom asks, around a mouthful. He swallows loudly, and then takes a long sip of water. “No, it’s not like that.”

“So, what  _ is _ it like?” BamBam wonders. “You live together in the middle of nowhere and run a B&B together, but you just — don’t bang?”

“I mean: I love him,” Yugyeom says.

BamBam’s eyes blow wide, and Yugyeom sighs, sitting up straighter and waving a hand at him. This is a strange first conversation to have, he considers. But there’s no reason not to be honest.

“Not — not  _ in love,” _ he says. “We’ve just always been close, ever since we met. Jinyoung hyung doesn’t like me,  _ like that.” _

BamBam rubs at his neck then, looking somehow more curious. “But what about you?” He asks.

Yugyeom tilts his head back and forth, thinking it over. “In school,” he hums. “He used to sort of torture me. Nothing really bad — just lots of teasing, more than any of his other hoobaes. He got an apartment and was looking around for a roommate, and pestered me until I moved in with him.”

BamBam makes a small retching noise. “This sounds like the start of a bad drama,” he says. “Where he’s the dickhead boyfriend who yanks you around and you pick him over some sweet, sensitive second lead.”

Yugyeom’s eyes go a little glassy then, looking off in the distance. “Jinyoung hyung was actually more like someone else’s second lead,” he says. “He was in love with this TA, for most of the time we were in school. And then  _ he _ got snubbed for some other guy.”

BamBam purses his lips, stirring more sugar into his coffee with a noisy rattle of his spoon. “That doesn’t really clear up your feelings,” he says.

“Well,” Yugyeom hums, and then feels his face flush a bit. “Well. For a while, I’ll admit. I kind of thought something  _ might _ happen, eventually,” he says, more resolute as he looks BamBam in the eye. 

BamBam just sips at his drink.

“I was young!” Yugyeom says, with a shrug. “But I don’t think Jinyoung ever even saw me as an option. After his TA, there was our boss at Son Hotels. And between all of that, he’d talk about other guys, too. We’ve lived together for years. I’m not an idiot. I know if there was any attraction there, he would have  done something about it.”

He pauses, wrapped up in memories, and smiles to himself.

“I’m his _best_ _friend,”_ he finally says. “And I’m okay with that. Honestly, I just want him to be happy.”

“So you’re just going to be okay like this forever?” BamBam asks. “Stuck together on a mountain, in some kind of sexless marriage?”

“If it makes us happy,” Yugyeom says. 

BamBam squints, and a beat of silence passes between them.

“Well?” BamBam asks. “Does it? You don’t get lonely?”

“I’m happy,” Yugyeom says, quietly. “But sure, it’s not everything.”

BamBam shifts positions in his chair, leaning back and adjusting his thin, round glasses. “I don’t know,” he says.

“What?” Yugyeom wonders.

“I think it’d be fun to fuck you,” BamBam says, “but it kind of feels like a bad idea. You’re cute, but I don’t do infidelity — I don’t need any of that nasty karma. That’s how curses get attached to you and stuff.”

Yugyeom stares in disbelief for a moment, and then lets out a wheeze of laughter as he realizes BamBam is being serious. 

“Wow,” he says. “First of all, who says I’d want to fuck  _ you?? _ And,  _ again:  _ we aren’t together, in any way.”

BamBam just looks back at him, lashes low and pink lips pinched into a smirk. “You wouldn’t even let me blow you?” He asks, quietly.

Yugyeom’s mouth drops open, expression blank as his whole brain has to reboot for a moment. His eyes glaze over, focusing uncontrollably on BamBam’s mouth. “Y-you… can’t just go around saying stuff like that,” he says.

“I’m a man of my word,” says BamBam, leaning in a little closer. “I’m  _ going _ to blow you. I’m going to wrap these lips around you and lick up every last drop.”

He pauses, eyes dragging down Yugyeom’s chest and peering down lewdly at his lap.

“If that’s okay,” BamBam prompts.

“Okay,” Yugyeom says, breathless, immediate. Then he snaps back with the realization of his words, already freshly panicked.

“Great,” BamBam chirps, and reaches for the portfolio he’d brought down with him. “I just need you to fill out some paperwork agreeing to let me post it online.”

Yugyeom is silent for a moment, watching him spread out several sheets of paper. “Wait,” he says, voice wavering as he straightens up, eyes wobbling. “What??”

“I’d like to film it, obviously,” BamBam says, neatly spinning the paper around so Yugyeom can read it. ' _ Waiver and Release'  _ stare back at him in bold, black letters.

“For my channel?” BamBam continues, sliding a heavy looking pen across to him. “Mark and I are webcam models — cam boys, you know? We have a lot of followers who pay good money just to watch us fool around by ourselves. But they also love a good mystery man! Your face won’t be in the shot, don’t worry.”

Yugyeom is stockstill, eyes locked on the paperwork as his mind races over what BamBam’s told him. _ “Cam boys?”  _ He croaks out, blinking slowly. 

“What did you think we did?” BamBam laughs. “I said videos and livestreaming.”

_“Mukbang!”_ Yugyeom yelps. “Or, or video games or something! I clearly said —  _ wait! _ You guys are here to make a porno? At  _ my _ bed & breakfast??” __

BamBam frowns at him, nose wrinkling cutely. “It’s not a porno,” he says, almost chiding. “It’s just sex. Everybody has sex at bed & breakfasts. Hotels. Love motels. _ Et cetera?”  _

“This isn’t that kind of place,” Yugyeom waves his hands frantically, face flushing.

BamBam nods slowly and reaches out for his papers. “Okay. This was probably a bad idea,” he says with a shrug. “I just thought, since Jinyoung-ssi looks like he’s trying to get hot and heavy with your part-timer, maybe you were looking for some fun, too. Maybe you _deserved_ some fun, too.”

“Hot and heavy...?” Yugyeom murmurs, just barely starting to feel the blood rush back out of his face again.

BamBam shrugs. “He seems pretty thirsty — but maybe I’m misreading things.”

He’s probably  _ no t _ _wrong,_ Yugyeom thinks. But Jinyoung’s personal life doesn’t factor into how much fun Yugyeom has in his own.  Or, how little.

A beat passes, heavy and silent between them. BamBam starts to tug the agreement back toward himself again, just an inch.

“W-wait,” Yugyeom croaks, hand slapping across it. 

BamBam raises his eyebrows. High. Skeptical.

“You really promise, my face won’t be shown?” Yugyeom asks, voice small.

BamBam breaks into a grin. “I swear,” he whispers.

“Where do you need me to sign?” Yugyeom asks.

BamBam smirks. “Initials here, here and here _ ,” _ he points. “And signature on the reverse.” Then he drops his chin into his palm, watching Yugyeom with a lazy sort of savor.

Yugyeom fiddles with the pen for a moment, capping and uncapping it nervously as he reads through the legal agreement. 

“Do you guys.. do you and Mark usually do stuff… together?” He asks, pen hovering over the first spot for his initials.

“No,” BamBam says, and a slow smile spreads across his face as Yugyeom starts signing.

“Not  _ usually,” _ he clarifies, and Yugyeom’s pen wavers as he looks up in surprise. “Usually we’re solo. And Mark really does do more boring, editorial modeling. I offered to be his management for that, so we really do keep it professional nowadays. But that  _ is _ how we met.”

There’s a long pause now, as Yugyeom seems to think further about it.

“Do…” Yugyeom is finally initialling another segment. “Do cam models usually have this much paperwork?? It doesn’t seem like it’d be a very bureaucratic job.”

BamBam barks out a laugh, eyes sparkling as Yugyeom flips the page and makes his way down to the final signature space. The pen is trembling as he sweeps his name along the line.

“Of course not,” BamBam says. “But I’m a really  _ good _ one. Have you been tested?”

“Actually yeah,” Yugyeom sighs, breath ragged with a wave of anticipation. “I still have a copy of it somewhere, if you want. But um, even though it’s from a while back, I haven’t really, er, not much has—,” and he falters, looking sheepish.

“You really  _ don’t _ get out much,” BamBam says for him.

Yugyeom slides the waiver across the table with a nod. BamBam files it neatly back into his portfolio, zipping it shut and then tucking it under an arm and getting to his feet.

“Shall we?” He asks.

Yugyeom looks at what remains of his lunch, for just a moment. Then he promptly hits his knee on the table in his haste to stand up.

BamBam snickers, heading in the direction of his guestroom.

“Wait,” Yugyeom yelps. He glances around the dining room then, peeking up the staircase skittishly. “Can we… let’s head up to my house instead,” he says. “I don’t want to do this at  _ Aerie.” _

BamBam squints suspiciously at him. “Um,” he says. “That kind of sounds like you don’t want Jinyoung-ssi to find us.”

“I  _ don’t,” _ Yugyeom says. “But not in a cheaty way. Just a regular… privacy way.”

“So you think it’s less likely for him to walk in on us in the _house_ that you two _share?”_ BamBam counters.

“We have  _ some  _ boundaries,” Yugyeom says. “We give each other plenty of space at home.”

BamBam looks suspicious again, and it strikes Yugyeom how little they really know about each other. Ships that pass in the night and all that. There’s a romance about it, to be sure — but beneath it, deep, aching mystery.

BamBam shrugs in agreement, unruffled. “I still have to grab my camera and stuff,” he says.

Once he’s returned, they grab their jackets and Yugyeom starts to lead him out the back way, through the little office space just off of the living room. But he stalls again, just before unlocking the door.

Fingers fiddling with his coat zipper, Yugyeom turns back to BamBam, eyes on his face.

BamBam’s got round, soulful eyes, Yugyeom thinks. A pretty little mole that lives just under the left one. And his pouty, thick lips purse up in question now. 

“Can — can I kiss you?” Yugyeom asks. His voice is soft, nervous. “Can we kiss? Do you do that?”

BamBam sniffs out a soft laugh, and his eyes nervously peek aside. “You don’t have to be so _serious,”_ he says. “I don’t have any rules about it — I’m not an old-timey prostitute or something.”

But his face flushes as Yugyeom takes it in his hands, warm under the tips of trembling fingers as he’s tugged gently forward. And his eyes are hesitant, fluttering shy and strange between Yugyeom’s lips and patient gaze.

Yugyeom kisses him softly, lashes hanging low but eyes not completely shut. Not when what he really wants to see is if BamBam will shut his, or if he’ll stare back at him and take control.

BamBam seems to soften under his touch instead, hands reaching up to cup Yugyeom’s elbows, chest bumping into his as he steps closer still.

Yugyeom mouths curiously at his lower lip, and then all of his questions melt out of his mind as BamBam's eyes shut and he flicks his tongue up against his.

BamBam curves into him, arms slinging up around his neck and mouth opening up for Yugyeom to taste. He’s surprisingly slow, delicate in his touch. He makes a vulnerable little noise.

Yugyeom wasn’t sure what he was expecting, and his stomach flips in a familiar way. It’s been a while since he’s been with someone, and the exhilaration of want, of being wanted, comes rushing back.

Yugyeom kisses him again, wrapping his arms around BamBam’s waist and teeth scraping over his lips. He lets his fingers slide down and dig into the lean slope of flesh where BamBam’s ass meets his thigh.

“Mmph,” BamBam says, wriggling back out of his bite. “Let’s save some of this for on-camera, please.”

Yugyeom lets out the breath he’s been holding and nods, trying not to let his disappointment peek through. For a moment, he’d forgotten.  This is sort of a business encounter. Not that he thinks BamBam doesn’t also  _ want _ this, but he’s chosen to propose it for his work. It’s not organic, and Yugyeom shouldn’t lose sight of that. 

But maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s what Yugyeom needs, for now.

“Wait,” says BamBam, pausing once more. “Are you trying to get me to your house to murder me or something?” 

“You—,” Yugyeom sputters. “Don’t you think we need some privacy? Jinyoung has a master key to everything in this building.”

BamBam looks at him, making a final calculation. “So what happens if he finds out, anyway?” He challenges.

Yugyeom sighs. “It won’t matter, if I tell him. I just don’t want to be disrespectful. This is a place of business, you know?”

BamBam smirks. “Well don’t worry, I’m all business,” he says, and strides out through the door.

Yugyeom hesitates another beat, breath fluttering behind his ribcage, and then trails out after him.

//

Later that night, Yugyeom watches Jaebeom carefully. He’d said he wasn’t more than an amateur cook, but the way he handles his knife speaks volumes. It flashes swift and steady, steel glinting elegantly under the bright kitchen lights. Vegetables are diced without blinking, swept aside in minutes.

Jaebeom’s precisely cutting through meat now, carving it into perfect, hearty portions. They’d planned to do a barbecue night and Jaebeom had rather quietly volunteered to help. 

Yugyeom is surprised by his initial shyness now — Jaebeom’s slicing tender meat so neatly off its bone he must have been a butcher in another life. But maybe it was this one, Yugyeom considers. He hasn’t wasted anything while trimming the fat.

Jaebeom’s resume had been just bland enough that Yugyeom knew it wasn’t the whole story. Or _any_ of the story. 

But this level of skill must have taken some genuine training, if Yugyeom were to guess. And why wouldn’t you want to advertise that?  _ Couldn’t hurt to ask. _

Jaebeom slams the cleaver into the chopping block so loudly it snaps Yugyeom out of his thoughts. Jaebeom wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of a bloody hand and Yugyeom feels a flicker of nervous energy.

Then again,  _ it’s not polite to pry. _

Jinyoung slinks in from the pool area with a bottle of lager held loosely at his side. He takes a minute to hunt around for their spare bottle opener. 

It may look convincing to their part-timer, but Yugyeom knows Jinyoung is intimately aware of the location of all their barware. He’s just using it as an excuse to ogle Jaebeom a little longer.

Yugyeom makes sure his smiling face is as sarcastic as it can be without words, following Jinyoung with his eyes as he loops around the kitchen. 

“Looking for something?” Yugyeom finally asks, sugary sweet.

Jinyoung’s eyes slide over to him, caught out in an instant. With a quiet, warning scowl, he opens the drawer next to his hip and fishes out the opener without even looking, and then pries off the cap cleanly.

“Is this all ready to take out to the grill?” Jinyoung asks then, shifting to stand a little too close to Jaebeom’s elbow. He gestures at the platter of meat.

Jaebeom doesn’t seem intimidated, silently nodding in reply. But both Yugyeom and Jinyoung take note of how his eyes dart down to catch the sight of Jinyoung’s lips curling around the mouth of his bottle.

He’s not being subtle. He’s got too much of the neck held flat against his tongue as he tips it back, and his Adam’s apple bobs gratuitously.

Yugyeom turns away and lets out a strained gurgle of laughter. BamBam had been right, this is gloriously obvious. 

By the time Yugyeom has gathered himself and turned back, Jinyoung has whisked the meat out to the patio, beer abandoned. 

Jaebeom seems still mesmerized by the sight. A drop of condensation slides down the bottle neck, and he audibly gulps.

“So what do you think?” Yugyeom asks.

Jaebeom shifts gears abruptly, washing his hands with some force. “About what?” He barks.

“About Jinyoung hyung,” Yugyeom says. 

“I’ve been trying not to,” says Jaebeom, scraping his hands through a towel.

“But when you do?” Yugyeom presses, wearing a big smile.

“He’s a brat,” Jaebeom says, through gritted teeth.

“That's right,” says Yugyeom with a patient nod. “...So you like him!”

“Of course not!” Jaebeom yelps. 

Yugyeom can’t hold back a giggle. “So he’s _growing_ on you,” he offers.

Jaebeom stares for a beat, the initial alarm draining out of his face. He’s starting to smile, but it’s slow and resigned. “You’re  _ both _ insane,” he says. “Oh my god, no wonder you two get along so well.”

Yugyeom giggles again, a little embarrassed but still uncontrollably amused.

A comfortable silence blooms between them.

“So you,” and Jaebeom stops himself, just the very apples of his cheeks coloring slightly. He can’t meet Yugyeom’s eyes. “You really aren’t interested? Yourself?”

Yugyeom raises his eyebrows, reminded again of his parallel conversation with BamBam. His relationship with Jinyoung really must be more unique than he’d thought.

“No,” Yugyeom says. “You’ve got a green light.”

Jaebeom scoffs. But he does look back out at the patio, eyes lifting to watch Jinyoung, Mark and Jackson conversing by the barbecue. They’re all bundled up in coats, and bumping elbows.

“I wasn’t asking for your blessing,” Jaebeom says, then. “Actually, I have trouble understanding why you’d stay cooped up with someone like him.”

Yugyeom frowns a bit, even as Jaebeom moves on to helpfully chopping vegetables for skewers. 

“Has he been  _ that _ bad to you?” Yugyeom asks.

Jaebeom’s hand stills, knife frozen over the board. “No,” he admits. “He’s just… annoying.”

“He makes my life bright,” Yugyeom says, frankly. 

Jaebeom sets down the knife, leaning on the counter as he looks across at him. Not judgmental, but surprised.

Yugyeom feels a goofy smile stretch across his cheeks, and he can’t slow or hide it. It’s a bit embarrassing trying to explain his attachment to Jinyoung. But he’ll try. 

“Sure, he’s stubborn,” Yugyeom agrees. “And he teases me more than anybody else. But he trusts me — because he  _ believes _ in me. And it’s amazing what you can do when you know somebody believes in you.”

Jaebeom stares back at him in silence, face frozen. He looks at once wistful and unnerved, but snaps out of it a blink later.

Yugyeom keeps thinking about the conversation even as they join the others outside.

//

“Spin the bottle!” BamBam insists, and he slams his empty soju bottle loudly onto the concrete. 

Jinyoung flinches, but thankfully, it doesn’t shatter. The group’s groans of protest echo around the pool area.

“Can we move inside, at least?” Youngjae whines, hands stuffed between his knees. “It’s literally freezing.”

The fire pit, outdoor heaters, some throws and even the barbecue had all contributed to making their patio more hospitable for a short, sunset meal.  But now that night has enveloped the Aerie compound, the bite of winter frost is impossible to ignore.

“Of course,” Jinyoung says, quick to his feet and gathering plates.

Jackson has already shrugged out of his coat, and he’s wrapping it around Youngjae’s shoulders. Youngjae’s cheeks are pink from the cold as he bites back a shy little smile.

Jinyoung tries to hide his own grin, swiveling away with a precarious stack of all the dishes. Jaebeom is by his side in an instant, skimming a few off the top for stability.

Jinyoung’s cheeks heat up involuntarily. “It’s fine,” he murmurs, before he can stop himself. But when he steps back into the warmth of the kitchen with face aflame, a spoon tumbles out of his grip.

He should have just  _ thanked  _ Jaebeom, Jinyoung admits to himself. The damage could have been worse than just a stray spoon. But he carries plates around all the time. Jaebeom didn’t need to help.

_ Still, _ he thinks, plonking them down and yanking open the dishwasher.  _ It’s nice. _

So when Jaebeom brings him the rest, including the wayward spoon, Jinyoung attempts a shaky smile.

“Thanks for the help,” he manages, words spilling together.

Jaebeom hovers beside him a moment longer, eyes dark and heavy. “Hyung,” he mumbles.

Jinyoung’s mind stalls for a moment, bewildered and distracted as the guests are noisily gathering back inside. BamBam sends his empty bottle skittering across the table, now. Somehow, it still doesn’t break.

Jinyoung glances back, getting caught in Jaebeom’s dark gaze and murmured words.

“You can call me hyung,” Jaebeom explains. His voice is still quiet, and he’s still close. The warmth of his body beside Jinyoung’s arm suddenly feels unbearable.

Jinyoung nods, wrapping an arm around himself, reaching up to touch his pulse point in his neck. It’s one of his nervous childhood habits. Jaebeom’s eyes follow the press of his finger to his throat.

“Thanks,” Jinyoung repeats, voice clearer. “Jaebeom hyung.”

“Hey man,” Mino is suddenly leaning on an elbow across the kitchen island from them. His beer is crooked casually in ringed fingers, but his eyes are intense, focused on Jaebeom.

Jinyoung switches focus to scraping the food off dishes so he can load them into the dishwasher. He’s eager to eavesdrop but wants to look busy.  Seeing Jaebeom flirt with someone else might make Jinyoung a little jealous — but at least he’ll know what it looks like.

“You go by any nicknames?” Mino asks. “You remind me of somebody. From my old neighborhood.”

Jaebeom’s eyes shift. When Jinyoung had peered into them a moment ago, they were warm. Molten, glistening and dark like melted chocolate. 

But in a blink they’ve gone blank and sharp. Even his teeth peek out from behind his lips; just the edge, where they’d bite.

“Ah,” Jaebeom says, stiffly. “It’s embarrassing.”

A beat passes, and Jinyoung wonders if he’ll elaborate.

“Some of my friends called me Beommie,” Jaebeom finally says.

Jinyoung nearly fumbles a bowl and looks up in surprise. He expects a bashful expression to pair with such a cute sounding name. But Jaebeom’s chin is locked strong, and something flickers between him and Mino.

Jinyoung slowly glances between them, and he almost mistakes the energy for sexual tension again. But there’s a bitterness here, an aura that’s burnt and strange. Maybe he’d misunderstood their chemistry, after all.

“You only said I could call you hyung,” Jinyoung says, in the midst of their heavy silence. “You never said  _ Beommie  _ was an option.” 

Mino shoots him a smirk. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” he says.

Jaebeom snorts, face finally relaxing, and he sets about helping to rinse and load the dishes. 

“Of course not,” Jinyoung says, in his best concierge voice. “We’re always available for our guests.”

Mino nods again, taking a long sip of beer. 

“I’ve noticed you let Youngjae-ssi do his own thing a lot,” Jinyoung takes the moment to add, gesturing across the room.

Youngjae is trying to peel Jackson’s coat off to return it to him, but Jackson keeps zipping it back up. They playfully wrestle for the zipper for a moment. 

Youngjae’s gasping with laughter, loud and delighted as Jackson’s eyes sparkle at him. Youngjae whacks him on the arm as he wriggles away, and Jackson gives chase. 

He’s wrapped around Youngjae’s back in the next moment, chin nestling into his shoulder as he lifts him up, and Youngjae shouts, face pink.

“Hmm?” Mino murmurs, before nodding abruptly. “Oh, Lorenzo — yeah. I have sort of, relaxed orders for this trip.”

Jaebeom tilts his head at him, and then raises his eyebrows at Jinyoung. 

Mino shrugs their silent judgment off. “It feels… pretty peaceful around here, as I’m sure you know,” he says. “But don’t worry: I’ve got good instincts.” 

He pauses, eyes flickering up and down Jaebeom’s form. “And good eyes,” he adds, before strolling off, nonchalant.

Jinyoung watches him go with a frown. He can’t shake a strange sense of protectiveness, although he hasn’t known Youngjae for more than a few days.  Of course, the bed and breakfast is sleepy, he can’t argue that. And Jaebeom  _ is _ distracting — he supposed it’s hypocritical to hold that against Mino. If that’s what’s happening there.

But Youngjae looks _lost_ sometimes. And while Jackson’s attentions seem harmless enough, what if Youngjae needs to distance himself? What if he needs some sort of support, at least? 

Jinyoung knows it’s outside of any expectations for hotel staff, but he still feels a sense of responsibility. He’ll just have to keep an eye on them.

//

It takes a while, but BamBam diligently gets them drunk that night.

Enough whining gets them out of Spin the Bottle —  _ thank God _ — but a few other card games chip away at their awkwardness.

Slowly but surely, Jinyoung feels his inhibitions give way. 

It’s unusual. 

He’s gotten along with guests before, had friendly conversations and even shared drinks. But no other combination of people has ever felt so immediately  _ right. _ Their combined chemistry just feels natural, comfortable. 

Jinyoung doesn’t want to overthink it — he doesn’t want to second-guess himself and run away from what feels good. 

Hanging around with them is such a welcome change from his typical solitary retreat back up to his and Yugyeom’s cabin every night. So when Mark suggests tequila shots, Jinyoung takes one. And when BamBam starts an onslaught of drinking games, Jinyoung plays.

By the time they move from tabletop games towards the TV and the sofa, he’s swaying a bit. His fingertips feel like they’re sparkling, and there’s a happy warmth in his gut as he curls up onto the couch.

Jackson and BamBam seem to be arguing about what to put on TV. Yugyeom has spread out a bunch of the DVDs from the shelf as options, and he giggles nostalgically over some of the children's options with Youngjae.

Mark cradles Coco. He's declared her unofficially adopted, and is making her paw gently at Jaebeom’s arm, speaking cutely.  Jinyoung watches, unsure if he’s jealous of Mark or an actual fucking dog, as Jaebeom’s eyes sparkle at them.

Jaebeom takes a step back then, and he glances across to find Jinyoung’s eyes on him. They just look at each other, expressionless for the moment, and Jinyoung traces Jaebeom’s features over and over again. Dark, sharp eyes, lovely little moles, nose ring, Cupid’s bow. Dark, sharp eyes, anti-eyebrow piercings, strong nose, strong jaw. Dark, sharp eyes...

Jaebeom takes a sidestep toward the stairs, as if intending to leave.

Jinyoung doesn’t want to say anything, but he feels himself start to glare before he can help it.  Jaebeom looks a little amused, cheeks pink from the beer as they round out with a smile, and he shuffles over to the sofa. He reaches out to offer Jinyoung a lazy handshake. 

Jinyoung takes his hand and tugs him closer. He intends for it to be much gentler, but Jaebeom stumbles forward a bit and chuckles as he untangles their fingers.

“I’m heading out,” he says. “I’ve got some other stuff to work on.”

Jinyoung pouts.

Jaebeom hesitates for only a moment, and then drops beside him into the corner of the couch, and Jinyoung’s heartbeat is suddenly racing.

“You want me to stay?” Jaebeom asks, directly. 

“Everyone is having a good time,” Jinyoung says. 

Jaebeom raises his eyebrows high, as if he’s still repeating the same question. Jinyoung refuses to give him the satisfaction of actually asking him to stay.

“You’re allowed to relax,” Jinyoung says instead, voice edging into a whine.

Jaebeom stares back at him, looking skeptical. “You couldn’t relax about  _ bark chips,” _ he reminds Jinyoung. “Outside!”

“It was your first week,” Jinyoung says, and it might outright be a whine, now. “I had to make sure to assert myself.”

“You asserted alright,” Jaebeom says, almost comforting. He lets an arm stretch out against the back of the sofa, behind Jinyoung’s shoulders. The length of it feels warm and safe. Jinyoung curls further toward him.

“Hospitality is… about openness,” Jinyoung says, nearly frowning with effort to seem serious. 

“You didn’t seem very open when I first arrived,” Jaebeom says, voice dipping low as their faces hover close. “And you keep calling me  _ Newbie.” _

Jinyoung can almost feel the warmth of his words against his lips, unsure if it’s real or his tipsy imagination. He can’t stop the hitch of his chest with his own stuttered breath. “You  _ are _ new,” he says. “It’s not derogatory, I’m just… being playful.”

“You’re being annoying,” Jaebeom corrects him.

“I’m  _ still _ your work senior,” Jinyoung prods him with a stubborn finger. “You’re helping us improve, but you can still learn from me! And… you have to get in here, with the guests, and be open.”

Something flickers across Jaebeom’s expression then, something Jinyoung isn’t sure about. Does Jinyoung sound too drunk??

“I understand,” Jaebeom says. The corner of his lips twitch.

Jinyoung’s ears burn. He’s always been self-conscious when he drinks. He likes to be in control, to feel like he’s making sense at least. Drinking relaxes some of his neuroses, and while that does make him more outgoing, it also leaves him feeling exposed.

Jinyoung doesn’t think of himself as wearing a mask; but there are layers. Blended, blurred like the  _ sfumato _ of Renaissance paintings, it doesn’t obscure so much as it softens. He doesn’t like to show too many edges, doesn’t like to feel naked, raw. 

But with a little liquor — his veils jostle, and drop away. His neediness can show through.

Jaebeom seems to peer into him now, but he doesn’t recoil at the sight. 

“Openness hasn’t done me a lot of good over the years,” Jaebeom says, frankly. 

This echoes Jinyoung’s experience so exactly, he almost tells him to leave. And  _ yet, _ something twists in his chest.

Greedy, Jinyoung wraps his fingers around Jaebeom’s wrist, tugging it over to his lap. They both watch his hand settle, hesitantly, over Jinyoung’s thigh. His grip is warm, and Jinyoung feels like it fizzes where it shifts across his corduroys. 

“Then stay and take care of me,” Jinyoung says. _And_ _that’s an order,_ goes unspoken. But Jaebeom seems to take it as such, neck straightening out a little as he focuses more sternly on Jinyoung's expression.

“Bossy,” Jaebeom whispers, scolding.

Jinyoung lowers his chin and very slowly raises a finger to point at himself. “Boss,” he says.

Jaebeom breaks into a crooked grin then, eyes shimmering as he shakes out a silent laugh. 

Jinyoung isn't entirely sure if he's laughing with or at him, but he feels a foolish pride bubble up in his chest anyway. Delighted at making Jaebeom smile, at making such a sharp face soften in amusement, Jinyoung beams back.

“Let’s get you another drink then,” Jaebeom announces, leaning forward off the couch.

But Yugyeom has appeared with two beers already, stopping Jaebeom from getting to his feet.

“I shouldn't,” Jinyoung says, not wanting to meet Yugyeom's narrowed eyes.

Jaebeom hums, taking both bottles and looking him up and down. “You look like you can handle  _ one _ more,” he says.

“You'll need it!” BamBam shouts, and Jinyoung glances back over to the side of the room he'd entirely forgotten existed.

BamBam is delicately taping a paper mustache to the television screen. Youngjae and Jackson snip away at a few more.

“What—?” Jinyoung starts to ask.

“When a mustache lines up with someone's face,” Mark says, tapping a goatee askew on the monitor. “Then you drink.”

Jinyoung feels his hand being directed around the frosty neck of a bottle. He glances down, to watch closely as Jaebeom's fingers wrap around his own. They’re thick, blunter than his, and firm.

A tension starts in Jinyoung's thighs, and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end, as Jaebeom slides back into the cushions of the sofa. His arm stretches back out behind him, and Jinyoung feels his thumb, just barely ghosting at his shoulder.

Jinyoung inhales shakily, feeling silly. Like he's in college again, canoodling at some house party.

Mark settles beside Jinyoung, BamBam attached at his other hip. Jinyoung raises his eyebrows when Yugyeom settles on the floor and leans back right between BamBam’s knees. BamBam seems to hesitate for a moment, and then swipes long fingers through Yugyeom’s hair.

_ This _ is a new development, Jinyoung thinks. But it’s not quite enough to distract him from every shift in Jaebeom’s breath. So close. So warm.

Jinyoung can’t stop himself from another little peek, out of the very corner of his eye. _Still handsome,_ he confirms to himself in a daze.

Mark bumps his elbow into his ribs then, just as Jinyoung attempts a nonchalant sip of beer. Jinyoung nearly knocks the bottle into his teeth as he startles.

“Drinking between the mustaches is dangerous,” Mark says, solemnly.

Jinyoung narrows his eyes at him but nods, backing off as advised.

Jackson has gleefully settled on some dark crime thriller as their movie for the game. The sensory clash between moody, cold camera filters and wonky paper mustaches is a lot to process when Jinyoung is already feeling overstimulated. 

The first hour passes in a discordant blur, as Jinyoung’s senses continue to smear.

A closeup of a police chief screaming, spittle flying, aligns perfectly with Mark’s goatee. Everyone cheers, and Jinyoung numbly follows along with another swig. 

Jaebeom scoffs in his peripheral vision, shaking his head at the television. “This plot is such a joke,” he mutters. 

Jinyoung lets out a little puff of relief, sinking farther back into the sofa. He’s glad he’s not the only one distracted, for whatever reason.

Jackson clucks from his spot on the floor. Coco lifts her head wearily from Youngjae’s lap, flopped next to Yugyeom. Her ears twitch in curiosity.

“It’s a good mystery,” Jackson says, shooting a glare at Jaebeom.

“It’s a  _ fantasy,” _ Jaebeom counters. “Half of these cops would’ve been pocketing from this scheme from the beginning.”

“Would you prefer we go back to playing  _ Mafia?” _ Jackson asks. “Is that more on your level?”

Jinyoung wrinkles his nose, thinking it’s unfair for Jackson to frame his own suggested game as childish.

But Jaebeom laughs, maybe a little louder than Jinyoung’s heard yet, and he feels another twinge of envy. He takes a stubborn sip, even though there’s no mustache alignment. He feels Mark's pointed glance of admonition. It makes him want to take another drink out of spite.

Anyway, Jinyoung knows it’s stupid to be jealous — Jaebeom isn’t involved with him. It’s none of his business, especially as a business owner.  But the easy way Jaebeom laughs, it sets Jinyoung adrift. 

The shapes on screen go all hazy and sweaty now, in a writhing display of skin. Of course, this film has a gratuitously long sex scene.

And Jinyoung’s grown, it shouldn’t be a big deal — but he’s  _ just  _ drunk enough and just nervous enough that it’s sensory overload. Jaebeom’s thigh suddenly feels hot, pressing alongside of his urgently. _Is_ he pressing it closer? Or is Jinyoung just reacting like he’s fifteen?

“Ahhh, there!” Yugyeom calls out, pointing at an upside-down mustache that hasn’t worked until now. “She had it for a second!”

“I told you!” BamBam says, smug. “You all doubted the upside-down handlebars, but I knew better.”

“I didn’t know a person with a spine could get into that position,” Youngjae admits, and the group all seems to notice how hotly he’s blushing.

“Ohh,” Mark hums, smiling. “It just takes a little practice.”

Jackson glances between Youngjae and Mark then, and then he nudges Mark’s knee. “Not everyone’s as flexible as you.”

Youngjae immediately looks away, occupying himself with combing his fingers through Coco’s fur. 

Jinyoung narrows his eyes.

Mark looks even more calculating, eyes steely as he stares down the slope of his nose at Jackson. “Excuse me?” He asks.

_ “YumYien93 _ , right?” Jackson asks. “You’ve gotten yourself into some pretty interesting shapes. Uhh, whoops? Is it rude to  _ out _ camboys?”

“You’re outing yourself just as much,” BamBam points out. He doesn’t look upset, but he does take a peek at Youngjae, who’s curled his knees up and is gazing into Coco’s eyes. The little dog licks his nose.

“And you’re  _ DoubleBBoi,” _ Jackson says, nodding at BamBam. “I’m not a subscriber, if that’s what you’re implying. But I’ve definitely seen you two around.”

Jinyoung’s stomach twists as he processes the information.  _ Camboys, _ Jackson had said. So BamBam and Mark… perform on the web? Jackson’s seen them. Showing off their  _ flexibility, _ apparently.

At least he’s not hooking up with them, Jinyoung considers. He watches as Youngjae blankly drags a hand through his bangs, as if he’s trying to look uninterested. It’s not particularly convincing.

“BamBam does the more acrobatic stuff,” Mark is saying. “I’m really just more of a pretty face.”

“You know, in the chats there’s even a lot of the people  obsessed with your _feet,”_ Jackson laughs. 

Mark shrugs. “Well, my feet are pretty, too,” he says quietly.

“I don’t get a lot of foot folks,” BamBam says, blasé. “I even tried toe-sucking and the tipping wasn’t anything special.”

_ “Hello??”  _ Mark wheezes. “Because you’ve got ugly ass feet.”

BamBam gasps, looking genuinely offended. “No way, man,” he says. “They’re like... elegant.” 

He wrenches a long leg up, wriggling socked toes toward Mark’s face.

Mark pretends to retch, curling toward Jinyoung with a sour expression. “Get those talons away from me,” he says.

Jackson laughs, but it’s cut short as Youngjae abruptly gets to his feet.

“Heading to bed?” Yugyeom asks, voice pitched high with concern.

“Coco’s tired,” Youngjae says. He presses the still-wriggling pup closer to his chest and he laughs awkwardly. “She just doesn’t know it yet,” he insists.

They bid him goodnight as he’s already started to shuffle up the stairs, eyes downcast.

The remaining guests exchange wary glances, and then BamBam clears his throat. The movie rattles on in the background, muffled as someone’s turned the volume down for their conversation.

“Why did you do that?” Mark asks Jackson.

Jackson raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “Sorry,” He says. “I didn’t think you guys were keeping it a secret.”

“Not that,” BamBam scoffs, looking annoyed. “We don’t mind talking about work. But you upset Youngjae, you know.”

Jackson’s eyebrows lift even higher, a caricature of shock and confusion. “How did I do that??” He asks, but his voice wavers.

“He’s  _ into _ you,” Mark says. “In case you didn’t notice. And now he thinks you jerk it to us.”

Jackson can’t hold back a weak laugh, but his expression sobers up a bit. “I — I did notice that much, thanks,” he says. 

“So,” BamBam says with a huff. “It just feels like you’re hurting his feelings. For no reason.”

“Look, I can’t let him fall for me,” says Jackson, and his eyes flicker with something unspoken. Jinyoung can’t suss out if he’s being sincere or not.

“He’s…” And Jackson’s voice falters a bit. “Unexpected. In a good way. But I have to focus on other stuff in my life right now. Even though I’m on vacation, all that doesn’t just go away. And you know — his job makes it even harder.”

Jaebeom shifts beside Jinyoung, pushing his hair back with a sigh. 

“And I don’t know,” Jackson continues, tone heavy. “Isn’t he too good for somebody like me?”

“Somebody who’s  _ into feet?” _ Mark teases. “You set a low bar, for sure.”

Yugyeom and BamBam both burst into laughter. 

“I didn’t say  _ I’m _ into it!” Jackson protests, but BamBam wags a finger at him. 

“You look like one,” BamBam says, chortling. “You look like a foot guy.”

Jackson swats at him from his spot on the floor, looking flushed but not totally offended.

Jinyoung finds it all a little dizzying. He understands Jackson’s panic — sure, he’d been able to admit he was lonely, but that didn’t mean he was looking for anything. And it didn’t mean he was intending to pursue something with Youngjae beyond some harmless flirtation.

It certainly isn’t Youngjae’s fault either. Jinyoung doesn’t think anyone can blame him for being guarded, literally and figuratively.

The movie drones on, and Jinyoung tries to force himself to pay attention. But it’s not interesting — and all he can focus on is the cold glass bottle in his hand. 

So he eagerly reaches for another when Mark passes it down, and whines out loud when Jaebeom plucks it out of reach. 

“You should go to bed,” he says, matter of fact.

Jinyoung feels frustrated, and he glances back toward the guests for support. But Mark, BamBam, Yugyeom and Jackson are still chatting cheerfully, and he isn’t sure when they’ll be winding down. And he _is_ already drunk — too drunk. 

“Bed’s too far,” he mumbles, as Jaebeom helps him up off of the couch. He’s embarrassed further by this, but he doesn’t stumble as Jaebeom leads him up the stairs by his hand.

He doesn’t realize this is entirely the wrong path to the office and out to his cabin until they’re already on the second floor, moving swiftly down a hallway of guest rooms.

“Hyung,” he mumbles, tugging his wrist back. “My bed isn’t here.”

“I don’t know how to get to yours,” Jaebeom confirms, reaching out and tugging him forward. They round a final corner. “So I’m taking you to mine.”

Jinyoung’s breath catches in his throat and he can’t bring himself to protest, too dizzy with the mere idea.

So he follows Jaebeom into his room blindly, as he leaves the lights off. Then he can barely sense himself being poured into the soft embrace of bedding. 

It’s dark, and too quiet to think, so Jinyoung falls asleep.

//

It feels like it’s just a blink later when Jinyoung wakes up, sweaty and on the brink of euphoric.  Apparently, he’d shifted quite a bit in his sleep, and now he finds himself lazily grinding against Jaebeom’s hip. God, he feels good.

Wait, what? 

Jinyoung freezes.  Jaebeom has a hand cupped around the top of his thigh, as Jinyoung’s draped a leg across Jaebeom’s waist. 

Jaebeom’s eyes crack open, and his grip on Jinyoung’s hip tightens. “S’okay,” he rumbles, voice thick with sleep. 

Jinyoung’s breath skips, drowsy still, and before he can stop himself, he rolls up against him again. The pressure is good, slow and sweet like syrup, following the curve of his cock just right.

Jaebeom hums, deep in his chest. Jinyoung bites his lip, eyes blinking slow and bleary, feeling too hot and still stirred up.

Then Jaebeom’s fingers dig into his flesh, and with a grunt he manhandles Jinyoung until he’s fully astride him. His eyes are open now, gazing steadily up at him in quiet anticipation. 

And maybe Jinyoung should stop, because he knows this is inappropriate, and even less advisable when he’s still tipsy. But Jaebeom feels so good beneath him, and he’s touching him almost reverently, stroking his thighs gently as he waits for Jinyoung to move.

Jinyoung lets his lips fall apart, exhaling as he steadies himself against Jaebeom’s broad chest, and he moves again.

It’s slow — his body weight is doing most of the work — just dragging his hips forward and back. But Jaebeom groans. And it sounds so sincere, so raw and guttural of a reaction, that Jinyoung thinks he can trust it. Thinks he could get used to it.

Jinyoung bends over then, and Jaebeom’s hands sweep up and over his shoulders. It’s balmy in here, heater cranked high, breath shortened. And his senses are swimming together. He can feel  Jaebeom’s fingertips skimming back down the ridges of his ribcage and leaving sparks, little twinkling trails of friction. Then his palms, hot and firm, sweep up under his shirt, skin-on-skin in a staticky sigh. 

So Jinyoung shrugs out of his shirt, letting it drop off the bed as he continues to rock against him, pleased at the matching hardness he finds pressing against his bottom. Pleased at the idea of it splitting him apart. 

Jinyoung dips his face closer, until  he finds Jaebeom’s lips with his own, finds them kissing back. Honestly, wetly. And god, it’s been so long, since he could feel the yawn of someone’s mouth opening under his. Since he had the fat of his lower lip rolled between someone else’s.

He thinks, in a blur, he could press sloppy, lazy kisses at Jaebeom’s upper lip for ages. It’s gentle, too gentle, the way Jaebeom responds, letting him take what he wants. Jaebeom just lets him.

It’s much too soft, much too easy, mouths quietly puckering and breath softly loosening like the sheets. But Jinyoung can’t help sink into it, bewildered as he is by the comfort. By the way it feels like they were made for each other.

In the haze of smacking lips and soft sticky kisses, Jinyoung lets his grip on Jaebeom’s shoulders loosen. Lets his fingers trail up his neck, into the waves of hair that curl down past his ears.

And then, his hand comes away with a tuft of it.

Jinyoung drags himself out of the kiss. Drowsy and drunk, he leans too far over onto an elbow to examine the silky swatch in his grip. He ends up flopping over onto his side in the confusion, and Jaebeom turns to roll after him.

It’s a little extension clip? It must be, there’s a track, and Jinyoung hadn’t  _ yanked _ on it, it had just come undone.

But Jaebeom just grumbles something and dips his head into the crook of Jinyoung’s neck, mouth warm and still wanting. 

Jinyoung inhales sharply, and the strands of hair slip out of his grasp.

He feels a knee sneak between his own, feels that hot, insistent firmness as they slot their bodies back together. And his eyes slip shut as he tries to focus on Jaebeom’s mouth now — the soft, sensual pressure of it just under his ear. And it feels good.

But it feels like he’s slipping under layers of silk, like his eyelids are too heavy to keep open. He realizes, he’s falling asleep again. And he wants to say something, to apologize to Jaebeom or warn him, but his tongue feels too heavy. And has he even _been_ awake, this whole time? It’s almost too strange to be real.

The last thing Jinyoung can decipher is Jaebeom drawing back from him, slipping out of his grip like his consciousness.

The ghost of fingertips combing through the damp hair at his forehead. Sheets tucked back around him. Warmth.

//

Intense warmth, and a rumbling purr low in his belly.

Jinyoung snaps wide awake.  _ Purring? _

It’s an immensely foreign feeling. One small white cat is curled up on his belly, still sleeping. Another one, tan and brown, is under the covers, squeezed between him and Jaebeom like a little child. 

Jinyoung had apparently been toasted enough last night to forget Jaebeom had his — four?  _ Five _ — cats at Aerie. He’s now greeted by several in bed with them. A first, for Jinyoung.

He takes a moment to assess the situation.  It’s early — there’s only a dim grey light, as if the sun hasn’t quite made it over the mountains yet. But sure enough, he’s still in Jaebeom’s bed. With all of his memory in tact. They’d definitely kissed. He’s not sure if he’s willing to admit to the grinding.

Suddenly he feels embarrassed, though he doesn’t know why. Nobody else knows about this yet. It can still be forgotten, erased. Sure, the cats had seen them — but they’re  _ cats, _ and they can’t judge.

The cat on his stomach opens narrow, mismatched eyes and stares up at him now without a hint of affection. Then again, maybe cats _can._

Head pounding with the prelude to a hangover, Jinyoung doesn’t have the will to entertain this train of thought. He needs to take a pain reliever, drink some water and take a long shower. Sitting up, he awkwardly pushes the cat aside and slips out of bed as quietly as he can. 

He’s putting his shirt back on and locating his second slipper when he hears Jaebeom snuffling and shifting around. Maybe Jinyoung will get lucky and he’ll politely pretend to still be asleep.

Jinyoung gets as far as a hand on the doorknob when Jaebeom suddenly clears his throat.

“Hey,” he calls out, words still slow and slurred. “Can you maybe not… mention anything?”

Jinyoung flushes, feeling rejected even as he’d been trying to sneak out. Of course Jaebeom would want to forget about this, too. They hadn’t gone very far, but it was still a mistake.

“I’m not one to brag,” Jinyoung says, a little too sharp. “But I’m pretty sure people saw us leave together?”

Jaebeom lets out a snort, half-muffled by his pillow. “Not about  _ this,” _ he says. “Not about us — relax, it was just kissing. I meant about my hair. I know it’s stupid, but please don’t tell anybody about my extensions.”

Jinyoung turns back to gape at him, face screwed up in a confused scowl. What is he worried about?

“Your what —  _ why _ would I?” Jinyoung asks, looking around, and sure enough, there’s the little tuft carefully laid out on Jaebeom’s end table. “That thing?”

Frankly, Jinyoung had forgotten about it already. He hadn’t even thought Jaebeom had noticed in the moment. But seeing it again, and the quiet insistence he keep it a secret… well, that _ is _ a little strange.

Jinyoung’s never seen anyone wear a mullet in a  _ manufactured _ way, but he’s never considered himself particularly trendy. Maybe Youngjae would know something about it, since idols are always changing their hairstyles. 

But now Jinyoung can’t ask, not with Jaebeom begging him to keep it to himself. 

Infuriatingly strange.

“That’s fine,” Jinyoung sputters. “I don’t make a habit of discussing employee hairstyles anyway. Or employee  _ anything.  _ Yugyeom’s barely told me a thing about you.”

And now Jaebeom gives him a strange expression, almost apologetic, as he sits up in bed. The sheet falls away from his naked chest and Jinyoung diverts his eyes. 

That’s right, Jaebeom’s his  _ employee.  _ The word burns into Jinyoung’s conscience. He really shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have done this, not with somebody he's technically responsible for. He wrenches the door open, sweeping out decisively.

“Thanks, boss,” Jaebeom calls out, as Jinyoung shuts the door behind him.  There’s a shockingly  _ cute _ lilt to his tone.  His voice is deep, typically serious. But in this moment, his words are soft and teasing.

And alone in the hallway, fighting off shame and a little nausea, Jinyoung allows himself a tiny smile. 

  
  



	3. Amenities & Services

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This chapter took a little longer because I ended up rewriting more of the scenes that I thought I would have to. Just trying to dig into the relationship dynamics a bit more concretely, as we learn a little more about Jaebeom and Jinyoung both.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts!

Jinyoung doesn’t see Jaebeom for most of the next morning. The guests seem cheerful and busy on their own, in and out of the compound for the most part.

Youngjae doesn’t even appear until lunchtime, only to collect some fruit from the kitchen and scurry back to his room with it. 

And while Jinyoung had expected some teasing from Mark and BamBam, Yugyeom informs him later that they’d already headed out for a photoshoot. He sounds amused by the concept — something about short shorts and puffy ski jackets.

Jinyoung eyes him suspiciously as they go about prepping ingredients for dinner.

“They told you all that?” Jinyoung asks. “On their way out?”

Yugyeom slows down, neatly swiping julienned carrots off his board and into a bowl. “BamBam happened to mention it,” he says. “In a text.”

“You’re  _ texting _ him now?” Jinyoung teases him, brows high. “Moving a little fast, aren’t we?”

Yugyeom nearly always humors him, so he snickers along with nothing more than a gentle eye roll. 

“Who knows what’s next,” Jinyoung hums. “A date or something.”

“It’s not serious,” Yugyeom says, although his voice has sobered considerably. “We’ve just been having…  _ fun.” _

It’s this careful wording that gives Jinyoung genuine pause. He turns wide, disbelieving eyes at Yugyeom. “Fucking?” He asks. “You’ve — already?”

Jinyoung’s not a prude. It’s just, after all these years living with Yugyeom, Jinyoung’s usually been the one to hang a tie on his door for privacy, or not come home from a date. 

“He’s so much fun,” Yugyeom says, and it comes out as a laugh.  _ “Not just _ in that way.”

It’s still unspoken, but certainly:  _ also _ in that way. Definitely,  _ that way too. _

Yugyeom’s always been the tamer one, shy about dates and even shyer about bringing anybody around Jinyoung. To mention it at all is certainly a new development, and Jinyoung can't help but feel a spike of pride shoot up in his chest. Yugyeom’s really a grown man.

It’s hard not to think of him as being so much younger still, and Jinyoung knows that’s not fair. Yugyeom, ever sweet and doting, supportive in all of Jinyoung’s weakest moments, deserves respect as well.

And while Jinyoung certainly wouldn’t hang all of that on him having casual sex — it’s just another reminder of Yugyeom’s independent identity. And how Jinyoung shouldn’t smother both of them with his own insecurities.

Aerie has proven both of them are capable of more than mediocre service. They’re their own bosses now, and that’s significant. But it’s very easy to feel isolated, tucked away with just each other for company.

Jinyoung still isn’t used to it. In the city, he’d taken some comfort in casual hookups. Up here, it’s not as easy. So while he doesn’t have to worry about, say, catching feelings — he’s still missing out on some of the more primal elements.

Jinyoung sighs, setting the rice cooker with a smile. He’s genuinely glad Yugyeom’s carved out something fun for himself, even if he’s a little envious.

“You deserve it,” he says quietly.

Yugyeom glances back up at him from his cutting board, bangs heavy over wide, curious eyes.

“Some fun,” Jinyoung clarifies, voice gentle and wavering. “You  _ should _ be having fun. Just as long as you’re staying safe.”

And Yugyeom’s face blooms into a smile, cheeks pink. “Thanks, hyung,” he murmurs, lashes fluttering bashfully. “You do too. And don’t worry, I made sure to take it back to the house. I figured you’d be annoyed if I mixed business with pleasure.”

Jinyoung’s breath catches a bit, unsure if he’s elbowing him about the night spent in Jaebeom’s room. But Yugyeom doesn’t elaborate, and Jinyoung is grateful. He floats over to the fridge, light on his feet.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jinyoung says, smiling to himself. 

“Seriously?” Yugyeom laughs. “I was so sure you’d freak out if I told you we banged in the office.”

“Wait,” says Jinyoung, looking back over his shoulder with a frown. “Did you? In the office?!”

Yugyeom is already sneering back at him teasingly. “I didn’t,” he says smugly. “But you look so cute when you’re being a hypocrite, hyung, I needed to see it.”

Jinyoung sputters and spins angrily, pretending to wind up the dish in his hand to throw at Yugyeom’s head. Yugyeom’s always had this ability to soften outright defiance with sweetness. 

But Jinyoung hadn’t fucked Jaebeom anywhere! Nothing had even happened. He wasn’t sure if he was more or less embarrassed by how tender and docile the truth really was. Dry humping and soft kisses! His younger self would’ve found it humiliating.

A sharp jangle of the doorbell cuts through the moment. 

Frozen, Jinyoung clutches the glassware tight to his chest, grateful for its tightly snapped lid. He glances at Yugyeom in confusion.

Yugyeom mirrors his bewildered expression from the island. Neither of them are expecting more guests, or maintenance, or visitors of any kind.

“Wonder who that is,” Yugyeom says softly, and Jinyoung hesitates another full beat before he sets the marinating beef down and trails after him.

He trudges so slowly he barely reaches the foot of the stairs by the time Yugyeom’s opening the front door.

Jaebeom has appeared upon the staircase, hovering a few steps up with a frown on his face. Jinyoung isn’t sure if his presence is reassuring or not.

Obviously, they haven’t discussed the night they’d shared, the way that they’d moved with one another. But the same strange, lingering chemistry still crackles between them, and Jinyoung isn’t sure if he’s ready to deal with it right now.

“Wow, hyung,” Yugyeom is saying as he leads someone in, a thick coat slung over his elbow. “It’s been a while! We weren’t expecting you.”

“I know it’s a bit rude,” says a familiar voice, and it feels like all of the blood in Jinyoung’s body rushes up to his face at once. It’s Son Hyunwoo, their former manager and his ex-lover. “Sorry to drop in like this. I hope I’m not a bother, but I wanted to see how everything was going. Haven’t been by since your opening reception.”

Yugyeom offers Jinyoung a tight, warning smile as he scurries over to hang Hyunwoo’s coat. 

Jaebeom slowly steps down the last few stairs.  It almost seems like he’s picked up on Jinyoung’s silent distress, as he moves in close, shoulder bumping into Jinyoung’s from behind. It offers some comfort, but Jinyoung’s fingers still twitch in helpless anxiety. 

He shoves them into his pockets, and presses his lips together into what he hopes is a polite outward expression.

Inwardly, his stomach flips over for a third time, and his mind clatters off its rails. Jinyoung had always been weak for Hyunwoo — too charming and sweet, too big and warm and inviting.

Hyunwoo takes a moment to really soak in the atmosphere of the front room, admiring the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows, nodding at the contemporary furniture.  And then Jinyoung feels his eyes on himself, scanning him and Jaebeom from head to toe.

“Another partner?” Hyunwoo asks, eyebrows raised and wearing a natural smile.

Jinyoung’s breath catches for a moment, about to misunderstand. But Yugyeom pinches him at the elbow as he steps past him.

“This is our newest employee,” Yugyeom corrects him, gesturing to Jaebeom in introduction. “Lim Jaebeom, this is Son Hyunwoo. We used to work for his company, _Son Hotels.”_

Hyunwoo shakes Jaebeom’s hand, and the grip looks firm. 

Jinyoung feels his ears flushing. Of course he hadn’t been asking about a personal relationship. 

Hyunwoo had always been focused on business first, business over everything. A consummate professional, except for a few — truly _memorable_ — stolen moments. 

“It’s good to see you both,” Hyunwoo says, and he looks like he means it, the bastard. The only thing worse than bad blood with an ex, Jinyoung thinks, is when your ex is still a wonderful person.

“Nice to see you too,” Yugyeom says. “Still hearing nothing but good stuff about the brand.”

“Always growing,” Hyunwoo agrees, eyes twinkling. 

Jinyoung manages to muster up a real smile at that, memories overwhelming him until he can feel his fingertips buzzing, pulse hammering away under the waves of mixed feelings.

“And congratulations,” Yugyeom says, and Jinyoung’s eyes wobble back and forth between them in confusion. “On your engagement, hyung.”

Jinyoung’s stomach might as well have dropped out of his ass now. He’s grateful that he hasn’t started visibly trembling.

But he feels completely buffeted backwards at the thought of it. _Hyunwoo,_ engaged? 

Of course Jinyoung wouldn’t have known, he’d taken specific pains to avoid him through social media and industry news. But why couldn’t Yugyeom have said something about it before?

Probably in hopes of not upsetting him. Like this. It feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. 

Jaebeom’s broad shoulder suddenly steadies him, right behind his own. It’s an abrupt, welcome comfort in this moment, and Jinyoung glances at him, unable to hide his surprise. Jaebeom is peering back at him in subtle question, eyes dark. 

But all Jinyoung can do is press further back into him, hungry for support. And he finds it, Jaebeom’s fingers curling subtly into the small of his back. 

Jinyoung finds his breath again, tuning back into the conversation. He wonders who the girl is.

“—Minhyuk’s so excited,” Hyunwoo is saying, flickering with a familiar, almost bashful energy. “Neither of us are great planners, you know, but my mom’s actually been pretty helpful. It’s like I’m dreaming.”

“Minhyuk?” Jinyoung can’t stop himself. He repeats the name, and it feels so dry in his mouth. His whole face heats up. “You’re marrying Lee Minhyuk? And your mother is  _ helping?” _

Hyunwoo has the gall to beam back at him, eyes gone crescent with his grin as he nods along. 

As if he and Jinyoung hadn’t had half a dozen conversations — hadn't shouted and spit about how it just wasn’t  _ worth _ coming out. Everything had to be in secret. How he’d be  _ ruined _ if his mother found out.

“That’s amazing,” Jinyoung croaks.

“So amazing,” Yugyeom says over him, hastily clapping. “We’re so excited for you both.”

But Hyunwoo is sobering slightly, eyes almost dripping with pity as he seems to read through Jinyoung’s reaction.

“Jinyoung,” he says gently. “You used to be pretty close with Minhyuk.”

“I certainly used to be,” Jinyoung mumbles, body gone stiff. He doesn’t want to be an asshole about it. He just doesn’t know what to do with this stinging pain in his chest. Shouldn’t that have faded, with his feelings?

“Anyway,” Hyunwoo says, straightening up with a deep breath. “I didn’t stop by just to catch up, actually. I have a proposition,” he says, flashing a sleek leather portfolio at Yugyeom. “If you two can spare a minute.”

Jinyoung’s eyebrows can’t get any higher, and for a moment he nearly vibrates in quiet frustration. “We were in the middle of preparing dinner,” he blurts out.

Yugyeom glances back at him with a skeptical expression. It’s not much of an excuse, and certainly not for both of them.

“I can tag in,” Jaebeom says, hand moving to clasp Jinyoung’s shoulder. 

Yugyeom takes a deep breath, and nods before Jinyoung can attempt any further input. “Great,” he says, grinning and pivoting in between them. He gestures down the hall. “Hyunwoo hyung, let’s move this back to the office. You can run it all by me, and I’ll go over the details later with Jinyoung hyung.”

Jinyoung wants to bark back that Yugyeom needn’t forward any information. That Yugyeom should shut Hyunwoo down regardless, and kick him back out into the cold.

But it’s beyond the pale, of course, unprofessional and childish. So he smiles instead, teeth gritted tight until the two of them are out of sight.

Jaebeom doesn’t ask him about it as they finish preparing dinner, but his sharp eyes seem to linger a little longer.

Jinyoung supposes it wouldn’t take much guesswork to discern he has a history with Hyunwoo. However Jaebeom interprets it, he can’t be sure.

The thing is, Jinyoung doesn’t want Hyunwoo back — and he wouldn’t have wanted to marry him, either. He’d always known he wasn’t the only one Hyunwoo had been fucking, anyhow. Men had always been drawn to him, like dumbstruck wasps to a sweet, beefy flame.

Jinyoung wouldn’t have classified what they had as a particularly  _ loving _ relationship, let alone exclusive. 

It was just the principle of the matter.  Jinyoung is tired of feeling passed over. Used and left behind, ephemeral like a sheet of scratch paper. 

The closest he’s come to a long-term relationship is what he has with Yugyeom. And while he recognizes that certainly embodies a  _ type _ of love — Jinyoung still feels restless. Wondering if he’s missing out on something.

In the past, he’d even wondered if Yugyeom was someone he  _ could _ fall in love with, eventually. But as the years slipped by, nothing had sparked there, even as they’d intertwined tighter and tighter. To categorize himself as lonely now, seems ungrateful. 

Of course, Jinyoung had admired the candid, gentle way Jackson had confessed it to him before. Jinyoung just wonders if saying it himself would feel like letting go of a cliff. He’s not sure what, if anything, awaits him down below.

He and Jaebeom finish setting the table together in silence. 

//

Youngjae tries, visibly, to avoid interactions with Jackson. At previous meals, he’d always had Mino to fill a seat between them. But tonight, it seems his buffer has gone missing.

“Won’t Mino-ssi be joining us tonight?” Jinyoung wonders, handing Youngjae his serving.

Youngjae twists his lips together, staring into the bowl as if it holds some mysterious truth in its depths. 

“He’s gone out,” he says quietly. 

Jackson settles into the seat beside him as delicately as he can manage, and Youngjae does his best to not look bothered.

“Your  _ bodyguard _ … just left?” BamBam asks from his other side, surprise etched across his features.

“He said he had an errand to run,” Youngjae says, yanking a chopstick roughly through the rice and toppings. “I said: you know, that’s not usually how the company does things. But he —!” And he hesitates for a moment, cheeks flushing with his recollection.

“He told me to grow up,” Youngjae finally says, through gritted teeth.

_ “What!” _ Jinyoung blurts out. 

“But your…” Yugyeom starts, humming uneasily. “I thought your manager said you specifically had to be cautious. Looking out for Lorenzenators and all that.”

Youngjae looks a bit queasy, and Jackson puts a soft, hesitant hand on his arm.

Youngjae doesn’t yank it away, but he keeps his eyes stubbornly on his bowl. “They’re a part of it,” he acknowledges. “But at least my fans would just want to see me. At least they claim to be fans. I’ve had some other issues — threats, all that. People who say I shouldn’t sing with their favorites, or I shouldn’t be an idol. Shouldn’t have been born at all.”

Jackson’s hand visibly tenses at his elbow, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater. 

“That’s vile,” Jackson says. “But those people are never brave enough to do what you do. And not nearly brave enough to say something like that to your face.”

Youngjae finally lets himself look at Jackson, but his expression stays grim, and then he turns away just as quickly. “That doesn’t really make me feel any safer,” he says.

“No offense,” Mark cuts in, over the rim of his wine glass. “But it’s Mino’s job to make you feel safe, not Jackson’s — and you should fire him for walking out on you.”

Youngjae boggles for a moment, seeming to consider it for the first time.

“Could you at least report this to your manager?” Jinyoung suggests.

“Mino… still has my phone,” Youngjae says, looking embarrassed.

Jinyoung bites into his lip, remembering at once how Youngjae had shyly admitted his phone restrictions. What kind of entertainment agency punished and isolated an artist, for safety matters out of their control?

“Can we lock that fucker out?” BamBam suggests. “Cancel his keycard?”

Jinyoung feels a spike of petty satisfaction at the idea, but Yugyeom makes a uneasy noise.

“We want _all_ our guests to feel safe,” Yugyeom says. “Let’s not lose sight of that. Youngjae, will you call your manager as soon as Mino comes back?”

“That’s my plan,” Youngjae admits, a wrinkle between his brows. He goes back to carefully avoiding everyone’s eyes, and attempts a small bite of his dinner.

“What did Hyunwoo hyung have to say?” Jinyoung changes the subject, elbowing Yugyeom.

Yugyeom looks alarmed, glancing around the table conspicuously. “Did you want me to talk about that now?” He asks. “In… front of our guests?”

“So it was bad?” Jinyoung asks.

“No, actually,” Yugyeom says with a sigh, shrugging small. “He made us an offer. To buy  _ Aerie.” _

BamBam hums, looking impressed. “Congrats,” he says. “That’s a big deal.”

Yugyeom goes a bit pink, smiling at him gratefully.

“You  _ didn _ ’ _ t—!” _ Jinyoung leans forward, so he can catch Yugyeom’s eyes again.

“Of course not,” Yugyeom says, and Jinyoung feels his hand tapping lightly at his knee, under the table. “I told him thanks for the interest, and I’d discuss it all with you. But I know how you feel. And I know how  _ I _ feel.”

Jinyoung’s heart dislodges from his throat, breath coming a little easier as he slouches back into his seat. He finds Jaebeom’s arm slung around the back of the chair, and the unexpected warmth settled at his shoulders sends a pleasant shiver down his spine.

Jinyoung catches BamBam’s eyes then, digging sharp and curious into he and Yugyeom’s posture.  Jinyoung suddenly feels self-conscious, unsure about the exact nature of their relationship. 

Of course it’s none of his business — but the way BamBam continues to subtly observe them puts him in the spotlight. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s getting in the way of anything. He and Yugyeom are just close, but he knows what that can look like.

In school, Jinyoung had always kept Yugyeom beside him, sharing an apartment and all of his secrets. Like how much he’d pined after his handsome adjunct professor, Junmyeon.

Junmyeon had taught several of Jinyoung’s lower-level literature courses. He was the youngest member of faculty in the department, but still five years older than Jinyoung and just mature enough to seem exotic.

Junmyeon had kept Jinyoung at a careful distance. Not always physically, as they’d had their share of breaks in tension, of nights spent staying up too late with a bottle of wine, of one thing leading to another.

But emotionally, Junmyeon had backed out of feelings over and over again. At first he’d thought Jinyoung was too young, and then while their relationship wasn’t strictly prohibited at school, he’d often griped that it was still inappropriate.

As Jinyoung’s graduation loomed closer, his attachment to Junmyeon had felt stronger than ever. He slept over often, and they’d started taking cooking classes together. 

But then Junmyeon had given him an ultimatum. And it had felt like a stone-cold slap to the face.

Junmyeon had apparently been suspicious of Jinyoung’s relationship with Yugyeom. Jinyoung had always assured him it was strictly platonic; they were roommates.

_ “Move in with me,” _ Junmyeon had told Jinyoung.  _ “Let’s make this thing real.” _ And Jinyoung had been elated — for about thirty seconds.

_ “And tell me you _ ’ _ ll quit hanging out with that kid,” _ Junmyeon had continued.  _ “I believe it, you _ ’ _ ve just been friends. But he  _ wants _ you. I know it. And I don _ ’ _ t feel like it _ ’ _ s fair for me to worry about that all the time. The  _ what-if, _ when you _ ’ _ re around him.” _

Jinyoung couldn’t do it. 

He’d loved Yugyeom — loves him still, like a part of himself. Maybe it’s too complicated for some people. Maybe it’s unfair to ask a boyfriend to put up with it. Maybe it’s greedy.

But life without Yugyeom? 

It’s unthinkable. 

Junmyeon hadn’t been angry. He’d seemed resigned to it already. As if he’d known what Jinyoung’s choice would be.

Jinyoung had been embarrassed at the time, unsure how to explain to Yugyeom that he’d chosen his friendship over someone he’d been in love with for so long. But shortly after, campus gossip exploded with the discovery that Junmyeon had been fucking Oh Sehun; a freshman. So much for inappropriate.

So Jinyoung had let things play out, naturally. It was as good an excuse as any to give up on a crush. And Yugyeom had remained by his side, without ever learning how important he was to him.

Not telling Yugyeom was one of Jinyoung’s few regrets. But it feels strange to think about bringing it up now, out of nowhere, just to be sentimental. So Jinyoung has stayed quiet, and mostly out of Yugyeom’s personal business.

Jinyoung wants to keep the peace with BamBam. At least for the duration of his stay. So he shifts in his seat, leaning closer to Jaebeom.

BamBam looks away.

Jaebeom turns to look at Jinyoung now, instead. It’s subtle, just a shift of his jaw to the side. But Jinyoung can hear his breath shift, a deep inhale, and he peeks over at him. 

Jaebeom’s not quite as shy, eyes heavy on Jinyoung’s face. His arm curls tighter around Jinyoung’s shoulders then, knees knocking as his thigh is suddenly close, temptingly firm.

Jinyoung doesn’t realize he’s held his gaze for so long, doesn’t realize Jaebeom’s lips have parted and they’re both just staring, stock still for a moment.

Until Yugyeom hisses: “hyung,” and he’s snickering. Like they’re classmates all over again, and Jinyoung’s been caught daydreaming in class.

Jinyoung hurries to look away, fixing his attention on his wine glass instead. But as he brings it up for a sip, he feels the tip of Jaebeom’s nose brush soft and subtle against his ear. Jinyoung huffs, quietly, into the cup, and watches as his breath fogs hot against the glass.

“You can sleep over again,” Jaebeom whispers into his ear. “If you like.”

Jinyoung sloshes as much wine into his mouth as he can handle, swallowing it hastily instead of responding.

Normal conversation has resumed around the table, and he’s grateful for the shift in attention. But he still senses Yugyeom’s peeking aside at them, curious about all the side conversation.

“Thanks for helping with dinner,” Jinyoung says, a little louder than he needs to, and he hopes it looks natural even as he avoids eye contact.

Jaebeom sniffs out a quiet laugh. “It was nothing,” he says.

“You know Jaebeom hyung even prepped the beef last night,” Yugyeom interrupts. “From the same batch as the barbecue. We didn’t waste an ounce. Saved us another trip to the market — I’ve never seen anybody use a knife like that.”

Jaebeom merely hums in acknowledgment.

Jinyoung catches a glimpse of Jackson then, peering across the table at Jaebeom with a little quirk of his lips. 

Not for the first time, Jinyoung feels a pinch of jealousy, followed quickly by regret. It’s simply none of his business — not who’s paying attention to Jaebeom, and not who Jaebeom notices back.

But he’d already invited Jinyoung to his room again. So maybe instead of over-analyzing someone else’s lingering gaze, Jinyoung should consider his own boundaries.

Last night, it’d been easy to slip his hand into Jaebeom’s, to tumble into his room and his bed. After all, he’d been tipsy, and that sort of sophomoric flirting felt less serious when mixed with booze.

With some sober reflection, it feels a little gauche to follow him straight from the dining table.

So once the meal winds down, Jinyoung pointedly chooses to help Yugyeom with the dishes instead of drifting off with Jaebeom.

But Yugyeom had already brought up professionalism; he had already branded Jinyoung a hypocrite.

So what did he have to lose?

//

It’s late when Jinyoung finally makes up his mind. He’s been loitering around the office space for far too long, scrolling mindlessly through spreadsheets to seem busy. 

Somehow, he’s managed to avoid the portfolio book Hyunwoo left with them. Still soundly shut at the edge of Yugyeom’s desk, Jinyoung keeps it in his peripheral vision.

But in the end he can’t bring himself to crack it open, can’t bring himself to consider it. 

He doesn’t have to be bitter about the past, but it’s over. He doesn’t want to sift through the ashes, to reconnect anything. Even if it’s just in the form of a business relationship.

He should be allowed the luxury of moving on, he thinks.

With that in mind, Jinyoung makes his way purposely back up to the guestrooms, until he’s facing Jaebeom’s door.

A part of him wonders if he should use his master key. He might be able to apologize for habit or something. But something stops him, fingers idly draped over the handle and staring at the burnished bronze with a stitch between his brows. Something inside tells him he’ll regret snooping.

“You came,” Jaebeom’s voice sounds out suddenly, from over his shoulder.

Jinyoung yanks away from the door, spinning around. 

Jaebeom’s alarmingly close, wearing a faded pair of coveralls, unzipped, and carrying a toolbox. His hands look well-worn, streaked with some sort of soot or grease. 

“What were you doing?” Jinyoung wonders, brain rattling through possible maintenance tasks around Aerie. Nothing mechanical has been in flux, but here’s Jaebeom — down and dirty.

“Working on my bike,” Jaebeom says. “Out in the garage.”

He nudges past Jinyoung, swiping his keycard briskly and letting them both into the suite.

Jinyoung trails behind him with a little frown. Bike? Like a motorcycle? He hadn’t had any idea Jaebeom rode a motorcycle — and beyond that? It was two in the morning. It’s all quite a surprise.

Frankly, the mental image it inspires — their mysterious part-timer astride a loudly purring motorcycle — makes Jinyoung sweat.

“I didn’t know you… rode,” Jinyoung says, shutting the door behind him and trying to hide a wince at his suddenly clumsy wording. He doesn’t really know anything about motorcycles. Is this more or  _ less _ degenerate than everything else he’d imagined for Jaebeom?

“It’s just a way to get around,” Jaebeom says, stowing his toolbox away. He peels the sleeves down off his shoulders, letting the top of his jumpsuit hang off his hips as he moves to start washing up.

A moment passes as the water runs, Jinyoung trying not to leer at the Jaebeom’s bare arms.

“I guess the bike must have helped with deliveries,” Jinyoung says, stepping cautiously towards the desk in the room.

Jaebeom peeks back out of the bathroom, wringing a hand towel between his fingers. He looks puzzled. “Deliveries,” he repeats, not quite a question.

“Grocery delivery?” Jinyoung prompts, tracing a hand along the edge of the desk. Jaebeom’s resume had framed this as the bulk of his work experience.

“Oh, yeah,” Jaebeom says, cheeks pinched as he pivots back to hang the towel up. “Definitely.” 

He takes a little longer in the bathroom, finally emerging in just a faded pair of boxers and his tank top.

Jinyoung feels, again, like he’s being unfairly suspicious. But the grocery delivery felt like such a softball inquiry. He wasn’t even  _ trying _ to snoop. Jaebeom’s reaction was genuinely confusing.

“Did you ever do anything... with your degree?” Jinyoung asks now, tamping down on his nerves. If Jaebeom is being honest, this isn’t unfair. And if he isn’t — it’s just calling his bluff. “What was it, again?? Sociology!”

Jaebeom visibly hesitates, tension held in his neck and shoulders as he lifts his head again. His eyes look blank, and Jinyoung feels a creeping chill at the tips of his fingers. 

“Not really,” Jaebeom says. “Never got around to much of a regular career. Interested in too many different things.”

A hollow silence stretches out between them, thin and fragile like frost. Jinyoung’s chill tickles all the way up his spine, and he wraps his arms around himself now.

Jaebeom’s resume hadn’t mentioned a degree. But Jaebeom hadn’t corrected him.

“Just how  _ much _ of that resume is bullshit?” Jinyoung asks, voice wavering. “Is any of it true?”

Jaebeom’s face falls, and he pauses for a moment. Then he steps closer, and Jinyoung’s feet feel conspicuously heavy. He’s stuck in place, like a fly in honey. 

“Why are you here?” Jinyoung whispers, when Jaebeom doesn’t respond. “What do you want from us?”

Maybe it’s not a big deal. Maybe he’d just embellished his experience in hopes of getting a job. Jinyoung knows that’s not uncommon, it’s not always some shroud of mystery.

But then again? He could be a conman, insinuating himself into a small business with a plan to rip them off. Pillaging the benefits of Jinyoung and Yugyeom’s hard work.

“It’s  _ honestly _ not about you,” Jaebeom says sternly. “I’m not here to take advantage of anyone. I’m just trying to get some distance. From my own past.”

It resonates with Jinyoung, if only for a moment. He’s trying to move past the last act of his life story, too.

“How am I supposed to know that’s true?” Jinyoung counters. “I’m just supposed to take your word for it?”

“Yes?” Jaebeom shakes his head, shrinking back a bit. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But that’s all I can offer you, right now.”

Another beat passes.

Jinyoung is full of questions, but he knows being too direct in this moment could be hurtful. 

Jaebeom looks like he can hear everything Jinyoung wants to ask, anyway. “I  _ can’t talk _ about it,” he says, head bowed. 

He looks up, eyes catching on Jinyoung’s. They feel sincere — deep and misty. “I really can’t right now,” Jaebeom repeats, voice going hoarse. “I’m sorry.”

Jinyoung tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Why did you... why did you invite me back tonight?” He asks, changing the topic. 

And in the bigger picture, maybe this is strangely selfish. Myopic. Maybe this doesn’t matter at all — certainly not if Jaebeom has bad intentions. 

But there’s a pang in Jinyoung’s chest, insecurities turning over on themselves still. Old, simple insecurities. 

Is he just a pawn in Jaebeom’s scheme, whatever it is? Is the draw he’d felt one-sided? Not magnetic, but manufactured as a distraction? Is it fake — like Jaebeom’s extensions?

“If you want my respect,  _ hyung,”  _ says Jinyoung, jaw tight. “It would help to be honest.”

Jaebeom rubs at his eyes, his forehead, avoiding Jinyoung’s gaze as if it’s too heavy to bear.

“What do you want?” Jinyoung repeats.

“The other night,” Jaebeom says, hands falling away from his face. “I finally got some sleep. I usually can’t sleep through the whole night. I’ll get a few hours, maybe three, never consecutive. But with you here — I slept like a brick.”

Jinyoung’s chest aches.

“I’m not used to sleeping with somebody,” Jaebeom goes on. “Sharing a bed, or whatever. I was an only child, and I used to stay up late, waiting for my dad to get home so I’d know we were all safe and together. Now, when I do manage to fall asleep — it isn’t exactly sweet dreams.”

It isn’t all there is to his story. But it’s finally a more intimate glimpse. Jinyoung feels grounded by it, like there’s something real here. Even if it’s just an admission of fear.

“Can I ask  _ you _ something?” Jaebeom asks, next.

Jinyoung hesitates, then shrugs in silence. He doesn’t have to commit to answering it.

“You and that  _ Son Hotels _ guy,” Jaebeom says, slowly. “Something happened there, right? More than work?”

Jinyoung nearly chokes on his own spit. He’d really hoped Jaebeom hadn’t noticed. But it looks like he and Jaebeom are equally nosy. He supposes he could deflect, say it’s none of Jaebeom’s business. But if he wants him to open up, maybe they could both be a little vulnerable.

“We were… seeing each other,” Jinyoung admits. 

Jaebeom doesn’t say anything, attention fixed on him, but without any pressure for more detail.

“He wasn’t ready to be out, and that was fine,” Jinyoung continues, stepping closer to the bed. “I get that. We weren’t even exclusive. It’s not personal, but—! It’s just strange to think of him so serious now, with somebody else. I can’t help but compare. Can’t help feeling like I just wasn’t worth it.”

“He wants to  _ buy _ this place,” Jaebeom says, voice firm.“That’s amazing. You’re _on his_ _ level.” _

Jinyoung raises his eyebrows, surprised.

“You’re a boss now,” Jaebeom says. “Just like him.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Jinyoung warns, eyes narrowing out.

“I’m not,” Jaebeom says, but he laughs, ducking his head.

“You think I’m being petty,” Jinyoung stabs a finger toward him.

“No,” Jaebeom insists, grinning back up at him. His eyes are sparkling, gone small with the curl of his cheeks. “No, it’s just interesting. You seemed so confident when we first met. I guess there’s a little more to you, too.”

Jinyoung feels himself flushing, heat curling its way up over the back of his ears, across his nose. 

“So are you coming to bed?” Jaebeom asks, cutting through the moment as he scoots back up the mattress.

Jinyoung watches, lips parting as Jaebeom shrugs out of his tank top. His body is lean, stretched out a little longer than Jinyoung’s. He looks strong, but it’s more about his proportions, muscles not cut by any obvious training. 

Jinyoung remember the fractured sensations; the hazy memory of his body's soft, warm embrace, the neat way they’d fit into each other. He kicks his shoes off by the door, mind slowly making itself up as he undresses. Once he’s down to just his undershirt and briefs, he crawls up onto the bed curiously.

A black cat’s already settled into a loaf on the nightstand, and Jinyoung eyes him as if he’s competition. He doesn’t look particularly intimidated.

“And we’re just going to sleep?” Jinyoung asks then, stretching out onto his side.

Jaebeom’s smile turns crooked, slow and indulgent. “Why?” He asks. “Did you want something else to happen?”

“I told you not to make fun of me,” Jinyoung says, and he can feel the way he pronounces each word instinctively into a pout. 

“Then you should just tell me what you want,” Jaebeom suggests, as he shuts his bedside lamp off.

The sudden flash to darkness is startling. It goes from warm and clear, to the abrupt inky blue of night. Long, graphic slants of moonlight stretch up from the blinds and cross the duvet, painting stripes over their features. 

Jinyoung can barely see Jaebeom’s eyes, just a glimmer of them when he blinks, until his vision starts to adjust. Then he finds that same sideways grin, waiting for him in the dark. It shifts something in Jinyoung — shyness melting away into hot, urgent curiosity.

Jinyoung pushes up on his elbow, leaning close and dragging a palm down the planes of Jaebeom’s chest. “Just wondering what this would have all felt like… sober,” he murmurs, moving his lips over Jaebeom’s. 

Jaebeom responds enthusiastically, leaning up to meet his kiss with a feverish, greedy force. His tongue darts between Jinyoung’s lips, and they’re instantly tangled, mouths moving open and wet, bodies slotting together.

The sloppiness of it is refreshing; Jinyoung likes the way Jaebeom nibbles at him, a calloused hand holding his face as if he’s a delicious piece of fruit. Jaebeom bites down hard on Jinyoung’s lower lip, sucking the fat of it between his. He gnaws, until Jinyoung mewls out loud. 

Swollen, kiss-bruised, Jinyoung gasps, eager for air as soon as he can steal it. 

Jaebeom’s already moving on, hand and mouth licking down over the sharp edge of his jaw to his neck, lathing at the jut of his Adam’s apple. His teeth scrape against the skin as he drags his mouth down, humming against Jinyoung’s collarbones.

“Can I—?” Jaebeom says, pulling just back enough to speak. 

Jinyoung can still feel the tickle of his lips, and he whines slightly.

“Is it okay if I leave a mark?” Jaebeom asks politely, but his mouth already clamping into the flare of Jinyoung’s shoulder betrays his impatience.

“It’s fine,” Jinyoung says, and Jaebeom’s teeth scrape open against him. “It’s winter anyway, and—!” 

Jaebeom’s teeth dig deep into him in response, and then he’s suckling and huffing into Jinyoung’s neck like he’s trying to brand him.

The sloppy intensity of it makes Jinyoung feel shy, embarrassed, as the possessiveness of the gesture feels naive. But the wet pressure and friction of Jaebeom’s jaw against his chest makes his spine go tight, and Jinyoung’s hips start to roll.

Messy, drunk on sensation, they writhe closer together.

Jinyoung feels him, the warm weight of his cock and balls against his thigh becoming more insistent. He’s quickly getting hard, and Jinyoung feels himself respond in kind. 

Jinyoung bucks forward, wanting the press of Jaebeom’s leg further against himself and his own thigh further into Jaebeom’s groin. The fit isn’t perfect, but the pressure feels good. The friction is doing its job.

Jinyoung grips Jaebeom’s hips, holding onto him for leverage. He digs his fingers in lower. Just there, where the swell of Jaebeom’s pert little bottom creases into the top of his thigh. Jinyoung cups his asscheek, kneading him closer and enjoying the stuttered moan it elicits.

“What do you want?” Jaebeom grunts into his ear. “You can have it.” He punctuates this with another deep, rolling thrust of his hips.

Jinyoung shudders, overwhelmed by possibility, by the sudden shift in dynamic. He knows he shouldn’t just blurt out  _ everything — _ that he  _ wants _ Jaebeom’s everything, that he wants to  _ know _ his everything, too. But his mind is reeling with all the things he’s imagined Jaebeom doing to him, and how it might feel.

“I don’t know,” Jinyoung admits, unsure. “Don’t wanna be a bad boss,” he whispers.

Jaebeom laughs, so sharp and genuine it cuts through some of the tension. Jinyoung feels the flex of his whole body with it, and then Jaebeom is rolling over on top of him.

“I take direction,” Jaebeom says, lowly. “Really well.”

And if Jinyoung weren’t all wound up, he might’ve laughed. It’s a little late for such a glowing interview, he thinks. But now their disagreements seem silly, and so, so far away.

And Jaebeom’s body weight, heavy and especially hot at Jinyoung’s waist, leaves him breathless and distracted.

“Just... touch me,” Jinyoung whispers, still nervous. He wants to feel Jaebeom’s hands on him again, wants another glimpse of the glowing admiration he’d seen peek through their last drunken tumble.

Jaebeom obeys.

He squirms back down the length of Jinyoung’s body, hands trailing along the sides of his ribs. Then he’s dipping and kissing Jinyoung’s neck again, and nudging down off the edge of a collarbone.

“You,” Jaebeom pants, lips smearing down the slope of Jinyoung’s chest, catching and dragging through the cotton of his shirt. “You are one of the prettiest things I’ve ever seen.”

He's bunching up Jinyoung’s t-shirt now, shoving it up under his arms so he can see bare skin, so he can lean in close and taste him.

Jinyoung can only whine in response, fingers slipping into the strands of Jaebeom’s hair as the heat of his breath ghosts over a nipple. 

Then Jaebeom’s lips are slowly, agonizingly closing down over the peak, tongue sneaking up over the tip. Just a flick, a whisper of a touch, like it’s a delicate candy he doesn’t want to melt.

Jinyoung’s breath stutters, skin sparking suddenly ticklish beneath Jaebeom’s grip at his waist. And as Jaebeom closes his mouth over him, suction suddenly complementing the wet slide, the back and forth of his tongue, Jinyoung whines out loud.

Jaebeom switches to the other one, leaving a wet trail across his breastbone, kissing soft and then harder still as he latches on.  Jaebeom swirls his tongue around the nub, and Jinyoung tilts his head back until it cricks, mesmerized by the sight. 

Jaebeom’s lashes flutter with a gentle, patient expression, even as his tongue works out a frantic pattern.  And everything’s a blur, the red and pink of Jaebeom’s lips and Jinyoung’s aching nipple looking like an abstract, erotic masterpiece. 

“Please,” Jinyoung begs, but he doesn’t quite know what he’s asking for, yet.

Jinyoung’s cock is hard, straining in his briefs, as his feet scramble against the sheets. He’s feeling flushed, eager even as he’s still nervous to be Jaebeom’s sole focus. 

Jaebeom drags his tongue down the center of his belly now, grazing across the dip of his navel and down, down to the elastic of his underwear. He bites at the waistband, and the careful slide of his teeth makes Jinyoung shiver.

Jaebeom looks up at him then, from between his knees. One hand is still stretched up so he can pluck at Jinyoung’s nipple, so he can still watch Jinyoung twitching and squirming with the sensation. Jaebeom nudges at Jinyoung’s cock, still clothed, with just his lips.

The heat of his mouth alone leaves Jinyoung whining out loud. Yeah, maybe that  _ is  _ what he was asking for.

Jaebeom peels his briefs off him next, short thumbnails scraping over his hip bones, and Jinyoung’s dick snaps back against his belly as it’s released. Skin still damp and ticklish from the ghost of Jaebeom’s kisses, Jinyoung lets out a sharp, clumsy breath.

“Please,” he gasps.

Jaebeom buries his whole face into his lap, then, and the side of his nose nuzzles past Jinyoung’s hard cock. He nuzzles into it, unabashedly. The smooth slope of Jaebeom’s cheekbone sandwiches Jinyoung’s shaft against his stomach, and his hot, short breaths tickles through the scattering of body hair there.

Jaebeom shakes his head  _ no,  _ lips like silk as they brush across the base. Jinyoung bites out a soft, broken noise.

“Tell me,” Jaebeom whispers into dark, damp tufts of hair. “You’re the  _ boss. _ Tell me what to do.”

Jinyoung tries not to groan too loudly, shifting his hips back. “Suck it,” he finally whimpers out. “Suck my dick.”

_ The magic words, _ he thinks. A command.

Then Jaebeom’s wrapping a confident hand around the base, tongue slipping out as he eases himself up. Jinyoung watches, vision stuttering as Jaebeom stretches his lips around him, and the wet, white-hot embrace of his mouth crests over the head of his cock.

Jinyoung strains to keep his eyes open. The image of Jaebeom’s bobbing head, hollowed cheeks and the sheen of spit dragging behind a moving fist is so compelling; he doesn’t want to look away.

Jaebeom holds his gaze, eyes locked as he takes him down deeper, keeping his relentless pace. Jinyoung whines out loud, almost in protest. The pleasure is overwhelming, and the promise of release seems tantalizingly close.

But: “Get up,” Jaebeom says suddenly, lips popping off as he rolls onto his back. “I want you to fuck my face.”

Jinyoung backs away, watching and wanting as Jaebeom slouches back against the pillows.

Then Jaebeom beckons him forward, until each of Jinyoung’s knees settle open across his shoulders. Jinyoung moves to clutch Jaebeom’s jaw with one hand, and he guides himself back into his mouth. His other hand grasps the headboard for added support, unsure how much Jaebeom can take.

Jaebeom plants both palms against Jinyoung’s ass, tugging him in close so his cock slides in nice and easy. Deep, with no resistance.

_“God,”_ Jinyoung huffs out, and it’s far from a prayer.

Jaebeom bobs forward and back, in slow, slick encouragement. He doesn’t gag.

Jinyoung has to take a deep breath to steady himself out, and then he’s flexing his hips, rocking into him gently. His fingers comb Jaebeom’s long, frosty bangs off his forehead, and Jinyoung admires the markings under an eyebrow, the glisten of his piercings, the soft sweep of his lashes.

Jaebeom hums in satisfaction, and Jinyoung feels the vibration in his tongue, pressing flat against the underside of his cock. It’s still slow, for now, as Jinyoung adjusts to it.

Then his pace picks up, Jinyoung’s eyes squinting shut so he can focus on chasing the pressure. He’s outright thrusting into Jaebeom’s face now, both hands gripped tight to either side of his head. His fingers claw into his scalp, gasping as he sets a steady, forceful rhythm.

But Jaebeom’s mouth stays open, jaw relaxed even as he sucks readily. And it’s so hot, so tight as Jinyoung’s cock glides effortlessly through the ring of his lips, head nudging easy into the slick heat of his throat. 

“God,” Jinyoung repeats, “God, that’s it. Fucking take it.”

Jaebeom swallows around him, tugging back and then aggressively plunging forward again. The slurping of spit and pop of his lips against skin is lewd, unmistakably sexual. 

Jinyoung slips down his throat, far from the reaches of reality. It’s as if he’s untethered from the earth, as if the blind grip of bliss around his cock is beckoning his soul out of his body.

“Fuck,” he sighs, “please. Please, it’s so good.”

Jaebeom’s shoulders shift sharply with a breath, and Jinyoung peers down in curiosity.

“It’s good,” Jinyoung repeats. “You’re so good. Such a good boy.” 

Jaebeom hums in approval, deep in the back of his throat, and it vibrates around Jinyoung’s cock, low and electric.

Jinyoung gasps out, flushed and delighted.

The pressure keeps building, Jaebeom’s fingers dug bruising into Jinyoung’s asscheeks so he can’t pull out too far. There’s a twitch of a gag, now. His eyes are watering. And still Jaebeom slobbers, spit dripping down his chin as he lets Jinyoung use him.

Jinyoung knows he can’t last much longer, the fierce flex of Jaebeom’s mouth around him too ecstatic. The way he’s only just starting to choke as Jinyoung’s head brushes the back of his throat — still sucking with wild abandon. 

Jinyoung’s never seen such intensity before. Such happy disregard for anything around them. A quiet, singular focus on Jinyoung, on his reactions and requests.

Jinyoung lets out a broken sob, coming into Jaebeom’s mouth before he realizes he’s too close. Before he can warn him. Trembling under the crashing waves of satisfaction.

But Jaebeom neatly swallows it all, fingers curling around him as he softens in his mouth. As the wet head slips out from between Jaebeom’s lips, a pearly drop traces down off his jaw.

_ One of the prettiest things I’ve ever seen,  _ Jinyoung suddenly thinks, Jaebeom’s voice echoing in his head.

Then he scoots back cautiously, peeling off of Jaebeom, watching from beside him as he sits up and gasps for air.

Flushed and sweating, mouth and chin gleaming with the mix of spit and Jinyoung’s cum, Jaebeom smiles up at him. It would look goofy in any other context, soft and affectionate.

“Told you I listen well,” he says, still panting.

And Jinyoung’s breath rushes out of him in a nervous laugh. He leans in to kiss Jaebeom, and he trails a grateful, curious hand down his belly and into his boxers.

But Jaebeom breathes out sharply, and he grabs Jinyoung’s wrist before his fingers can dip any further into the sticky tangle he finds. 

“I’m good,” Jaebeom whispers. He rolls over and away, and shortly afterwards Jinyoung hears the sound of the sink running.

Jinyoung is left in a daze — he hadn’t expected Jaebeom to enjoy it that much. Hadn’t expected him to relinquish control so eagerly. Hadn’t known he’d enjoy it, too.

The whole room feels light blue now, dipped in the coldest tones before dawn. It's eerie, especially disorienting because Jinyoung’s not used to sleeping in this room. 

Sure, he’d decorated, cleaned and stocked it regularly. So it’s still a little familiar. But as the warmth of his afterglow dissipates, he feels off-kilter. Unknown.

Jinyoung stretches, muscles aching merrily, and slips out of the bed to move around a bit. Barefoot, he keeps his steps light, ears prickling as they tune to the rhythmic sound of Jaebeom washing up. 

His spine still has a few sparks left in it, a little reminder of the arousal he’d felt so consumed by a few minutes ago.

Jinyoung trails fingers along the credenza under a mounted television, scanning Jaebeom’s miscellanies with hungry, curious eyes.

A cat toy, expected.

A little carving of a tree? Jinyoung wonders if it’s his own handiwork.

And then, a leather roll, loosely tied. Jinyoung lets his fingers pluck at the side. The bundle unravels — there are a dozen subsequent glimmers of steel. 

It's a knife roll, and Jinyoung distantly connects it with an image of chefs, combined with the praise Yugyeom had for Jaebeom’s carving.  _ Saved us another trip to the market, _ Yugyeom had said. There are maybe sixteen knives here, some looking more intimidating than others, but clean, well-kept.

It rings sincere, Jinyoung thinks, gently flapping it shut once again.

He takes a step back, feeling dizzy with a sudden nosiness. A buzzing need to pry. But Jaebeom had been polite, more open with him than he’d probably needed to. 

And he’d so frankly said — he just wants to get away from his past. Just wants to get some sleep.

Jinyoung nods to himself, even as his eyes track down the dresser. And there, in the gap between the bottom of the drawers and the floor, he sees a short, small safe; not the one they’d provided in all the guest closets. It’s tucked mostly out of sight, except for the door left ajar.

Jaebeom is humming in the bathroom now, the sound muffled like his mouth is stuffed with a toothbrush. 

Jinyoung crouches down before he can stop himself. Before he can talk himself out of it.

He barely nudges the door to the safe open an inch wider, and then he sees the grip. 

It’s the butt of a gun.

Textured, black, and somehow still menacing at its most simplistic, safest angle. Ergonomic. Made for the soft curl of a person’s palm.

The same palm that had dragged down Jinyoung’s body. Had cupped Jinyoung’s jaw, his chest, his bottom.

Jinyoung moves the safe door back into its original position and stands up, body tense. Suddenly, the knife roll doesn’t look very reassuring.

It’s like he goes into auto-pilot, like he’s been removed from himself. 

His body slips back into his pants in one fluid motion, and his heel doesn’t even get caught on the hem like it usually does. He flings his shirt over his head, steps neatly back into his shoes, and leaves.

Jinyoung doesn’t look back, spine stiff, jaw aching from how his teeth grind together. He walks as calmly as he can, back out of the main house and through the frigid night air, up to his own cabin.

Yugyeom is still awake, the quiet hum of something on television reverberating through the walls.

Jinyoung pauses at his own bedroom door, and then doubles back down the hall. He flings himself into Yugyeom’s room without knocking, collapsing beside him on the couch.

“Hyung,” Yugyeom says, startled. “What’s wrong?”

Jinyoung lays his head back onto his lap, face forced into his calmest expression.

“That man,” he says, grimly. “What do we really know about him?”

//

  
  



	4. Privacy Policy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm sorry for the delay on this one, I'm sure you can tell we've caught up to where I no longer have entire chapters prewritten. I've been pretty busy — I went on a trip and got engaged! Then work has been bonkers, my computer went away for a new display & keys (luckily free thanks to Apple taking responsibility for its shit hardware), and most recently, I've been sick. Are these just a list of excuses? Sure. But they're also true, and I'm also hoping this chapter was worth some wait. 
> 
> Jinyoung is starting to get a few more puzzle pieces put together, and things continue to steam up. Not without some interruptions as always, though.

“What do we know about  _ who??” _ Yugyeom asks, peering down at Jinyoung’s face with a frown. “BamBam?”

“Jaebeom,” Jinyoung says. “If that's even his real name!”

Yugyeom frowns, tilting his head away to consider it. “I guess I know whatever's on his resume,” he says, but it does sound cautious. Like he’s holding something back.

“He’s hiding a gun,” Jinyoung blurts out. “In his room.”

“You’ve been snooping around his room?” Yuygeom asks. And his eyebrows are raised, but his voice is still even. Unruffled. Jinyoung glares up at him in suspicion.

“He  _ invited _ me!” Jinyoung says.

“And you thanked him by going through his belongings?” Yugyeom counters.

“I didn’t have to go  _ through _ anything,” Jinyoung says. “His safe was open.” He leaves ‘ _ mostly’ _ unsaid, as it’s a tiny technicality.

Yugyeom pauses, looking away for another moment. “I mean, at least he has it in a safe?” He says, but he doesn’t sound particularly convinced.

“It was  _ open,” _ Jinyoung repeats, face twisting in confusion. Was Yugyeom teasing him? “That defeats the whole purpose!” 

Yugyeom pats him gently on the chest, chewing at his lip as he seems to carefully consider his response. “Hyung,” he says. “That would intimidate me, too. But he hasn’t done anything particularly reckless — and his references were all really positive. I just think you should give him a chance to explain.”

Jinyoung frowns. Yugyeom is keeping something from him. Something that inexplicably makes him trust Jaebeom.  It feels unfathomable.

Yugyeom turns in his seat then, shifting Jinyoung’s head against his legs. 

Jinyoung peers up at him, inspecting his posture and expression as if he’ll find the answer via body language. But it’s all mostly the same Yugyeom — same long legs, the same fair stretch of his neck against the same old cushion of his couch. 

There’s a red stippled mark below his earlobe, where the chain of one long earring brushes against his skin. A hickey. 

Jinyoung thinks of BamBam, and suddenly grows uncomfortable, yanking away to sit up straight. Yugyeom’s couch is familiar, cozy. But it might not be as sacred as he thought. He can’t help but wrinkle his nose at the thought.

“Did you have BamBam back here?” Jinyoung asks, shoving a pillow away from himself and into Yugyeom’s gut. 

Yugyeom curls up, squeaking out a gasp at the impact. “Of course,” he says, looking alarmed. “It’s  _ my _ room, isn’t it?”

“You should be careful,” Jinyoung says, thinking about Jaebeom. 

He thinks about the way he’d directed him to fuck his face. About the fit of his mouth, the pretty curve of his Cupid’s bow. It’s too tempting, Jinyoung thinks, paranoid. It’s too easy to trust him.  What does he  _ want? _

Yugyeom’s eyes have narrowed, head tilted expectantly when Jinyoung looks at him again.

“So why were you in his room?” Yugyeom asks. “Before you saw the gun and ran away.”

“He  _ invited _ me over,” Jinyoung repeats.

“For… sex?” Yugyeom asks.

“No,” Jinyoung says, stubborn. “Not originally.”

“Okay,” says Yugyeom. “But the nature of your visit… evolved.”

“He sucked my dick,” Jinyoung says quietly, with a tiny shrug. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Yugyeom makes an interesting expression. “That can be a pretty big deal,” he says, voice thin.

A beat passes.

Jinyoung lets out an annoyed, angry little noise. “Yes Kim Yugyeom, we know you’ve been getting your dick wet,” he squawks. “How very exciting. But don’t you realize? We’re being totally  _ infiltrated _ here.”

Yugyeom clucks out a sigh, swatting at Jinyoung’s knee. “Hyung,” he says with a whine. “Nobody’s trying to  _ infiltrate _ our bed & breakfast. And certainly not via sex. People  _ have _ sex. We  _ are _ running a hotel.”

“But people are greedy,” Jinyoung says. “We own this place. So what if they think we’re worth more than what we have?”

“Well hopefully,” Yugyeom says with a smug smile, “I’ll still own  _ Aerie,  _ even if Jaebeom takes  _ you _ to court for harassment.”

Jinyoung groans. “It’s not like that!”

“I mean…” Yugyeom hums, voice pitched especially shrill to annoy Jinyoung. “You did call yourself a bad boss.”

Jinyoung frowns in thought. “There is… a certain power dynamic,” he admits.  _ Tell me what you want, _ Jaebeom had said. And he’d practicularly purred when he had been praised. 

“Inherently inappropriate,” Yugyeom sing-songs.

“Isn’t it pretty inappropriate that he can take me out back and  _ shoot _ me??” Jinyoung asks. “You think  _ Human Resources _ trumps all that?”

Yugyeom shrugs. “Maybe it’s not the same kind of power,” he says. “But you’re in a position above him.”

“But I’m completely unarmed,” Jinyoung says, exasperated. 

“Your power comes with more freedom,” Yugyeom says, softly. “He doesn’t get to make the same kind of choices you do.”

Jinyoung knows, objectively, there’s truth to it regardless. But he also knows Yugyeom wouldn’t bother with this soft reminder, if he wasn’t trying to say something else. Something he can’t say out loud. 

“Maybe it’s even good to have somebody tougher around,” Yugyeom adds, quietly. “Mino was asking us about security, after all. If we ever have another big name guest, it’d be nice to offer some… reassurance.”

Jinyoung stares at him in disbelief. This sounds so foreign — is he being serious? He yanks the cushion back into his lap, so he has something to twist in his fingers. 

“What’s going on?” Jinyoung asks, pronouncing the words sharply. “What do you know about Lim Jaebeom that you’re not telling me?”

After a pause, Yugyeom sighs, eyes slipping shut as he pinches at the bridge of his nose. His long lashes flutter with his exhaled breath, and then he flops his head back against the sofa in resignation. 

“Please,” Yugyeom says, to Jinyoung and the ceiling. “I need you to trust  _ me.  _ I understand why you can’t trust him — so trust me, instead.”

Jinyoung is left speechless, lips parted, eyes tracing Yugyeom’s face, and the helpless way he’s flopped back. Yugyeom has nothing else to say, nothing else he can impart to make him feel better. 

He would if he could, Jinyoung knows it.

Yugyeom can’t look at him — he’s trying to avoid  _ lying, _ Jinyoung realizes. This is shaping out to be a real mystery, after all. 

Not just Jinyoung’s usual petty reluctance. Not just his fear of real intimacy, not just his own shortcomings nipping hot and angry at his heels, like in every other relationship.

But this? He’s never  _ not _ trusted Yugyeom before.  So all he can do is nod, and accept things as they are, for now.

//

The next day passes quietly, but the silence rubs at Jinyoung, starched and stiff.

He sees Jaebeom around breakfast time, but neatly avoids him. The next day dawns much the same way, and Jinyoung starts to feel restless.

It’s not that he had been looking for some big showdown with Jaebeom. He hadn’t really wanted to be confronted, if he’s honest. Because he doesn’t know what he would say.

But he’s a little surprised that Jaebeom doesn’t bring it up at all. That Jaebeom seems unaffected. Or at least, he doesn’t seek out any clarification. 

Maybe this really was just a casual hookup. Maybe Jaebeom’s okay with this being being quick and sloppy, purely sexual.

But Jinyoung can’t quite hope for that — especially since Jaebeom had asked explicitly to  _ sleep _ with him, and Jinyoung had bailed. There must have been disappointment, at the very least.

Still, Jaebeom doesn’t say anything. So Jinyoung carries on.

Late in the afternoon, Jinyoung decides to set out some mats in the sunroom. The concrete around their indoor pool is heated, a sumptuous little luxury that he’s rarely shared with summer guests.

Toting the bed rolls is in itself a fiddly task, and he pauses a few times in his path from the storage closets.

As fate would have it, Jaebeom is checking the pool’s chemical levels when Jinyoung approaches. 

Jinyoung doesn’t notice him at first, a tower of futons swaying in front of him until he drops them into a heap and starts to lay them out, diagonal out to the windows.

Jinyoung smugly thinks it looks quite inviting, warm pops of yellow and orange contrasting with the modern, minimalist architecture. Youngjae would probably like to curl up in here, with Coco. Or Mark and BamBam, with a couple of spiked hot cocoas. 

But Jaebeom’s frowning face suddenly appears in front of him, and he looks strangely upset with the mats. 

“Why are you laying them out like that?” He asks, fiddling with the pH meter in his grip and looking grumpy.

Jinyoung shrugs. “It’s nice to take some sun in here,” he says. “The heated floor and big windows make it a nice little spot for reading or napping.”

He thinks, briefly, of how much Jaebeom’s cats would enjoy it. But that’s too personal a note. And he’d only agreed to letting them stay in Jaebeom’s room — letting them roam the whole house would be a bad idea, right?

“No,” Jaebeom frowns. “I mean, why diagonal? Now they’re not really looking at the pool or out the window. And you can add more if you turn them straight out.”

He moves one aside to illustrate, and Jinyoung feels the back of his neck start to prickle with irritation.

“Diagonal creates more visual interest,” Jinyoung grits out. “And then you can look either direction without turning the whole thing around.”

“I don’t know about that, _ ” _ Jaebeom says, crossing his arms and looking unimpressed.

“It’s not  _ for you,” _ Jinyoung says. “It’s for the guests, and it needs to look good. So I’m doing it this way.”

“Then maybe they should be parallel to the side of the pool,” Jaebeom says. “You can fit more than one person on them that way.”

“They’re meant not for sharing, _ ” _ Jinyoung argues. “They’re for lounging.  _ Alone.” _

Jaebeom looks at him for another moment, mouth shifting like he has something else he wants to say. 

Jinyoung is subtly wringing his hands, and there’s a lump at the back of his throat. But he stares back, as if he’s daring Jaebeom to bring something up.

“You seem to know a thing or two about leaving people alone,” Jaebeom murmurs.

Jinyoung swallows his nerves and crosses his arms. “What are you talking about?” He asks.

They stand perfectly mirrored, perfectly annoyed.

“Oh,” Jaebeom blinks exaggeratedly. “Are you still talking to me? I thought you just sort of, float in and out of rooms whenever you want, like an angry little ghost.”

Jinyoung nearly snaps back at him, flustered and gone seasick with shame. But he doesn’t have anything to refute it, so he stays silent, digging his fingernails into his elbows. 

Jaebeom stares back at him just as stubbornly, eyes scraping over Jinyoung’s features with a searing intensity.

“Nothing else to say to me?” Jaebeom asks, finally.

Jinyoung tries not to let his sharp stutter of breath show through as he shakes his head. What  _ can _ he possibly say? He isn’t ready to admit to what he’d seen, to admit to how he’d been snooping. 

And he doesn’t even know if Jaebeom wants an apology or not. Sure, he’s angry. But does he  _ want _ them to make up? Is it worth it?

Jaebeom nods and leaves without another word, and Jinyoung ends up curling up on a mat — all by himself, just like he’d fought for.

But he has a moment of reflection, somewhere between the glare of the windows and the wavy, distorted self he sees in the pool water. Maybe for once, Jinyoung ought to bend, to keep something from breaking.  If not as a friend, then surely as Jaebeom’s boss.

Otherwise, he’s not sure this arrangement can work. 

//

  
  


Later, Jackson nearly runs into Youngjae just as he’s leaving the kitchen.

“You doing okay?” Jackson asks, cautiously.

Youngjae actually freezes, arms seizing up. The tray he’s loaded down with juice, dried squid, and popcorn wobbles slightly in the air.

“Fine,” Youngjae says, nodding past Jackson’s shoulder, indicating he plans to head back upstairs. “If you’ll just excuse me.”

“Hey,” Jackson says, reaching out for the tray. “Let me give you a hand with that?”

Youngjae hesitates, and he glances back at the counter now, where a bottle of vodka and two cookies have been set aside together. He must’ve planned to come back for them after his first trip, Jackson guesses.

“Okay,” Youngjae finally agrees. 

Once Jackson’s commandeered the tray, Youngjae shyly swipes the vodka off the counter and clutches the cookies in his other hand, half swallowed up by the cuff of his sweatshirt. 

They start a slow, careful path back to the stairs and up to Youngjae’s suite. Youngjae keeps peering curiously aside at Jackson’s face, as if he’s carefully weighing out what to say.

Surprisingly, Youngjae lets Jackson into his room without any pretense, squeezing the bottle under his arm so he can swipe his keycard, and leading him inside. 

Jackson follows him with some caution, stepping delicately as if he’ll be banished for making too loud of a sound. 

Coco perks up from a dog bed in the corner. She sniffs at the air, but quickly seems to approve of this visitor and tucks her face back into the pillow.

Youngjae leads him all the way through to the shared parlor area, where the television waits, paused on the opening credits of a film. They neatly line up the snacks on the coffee table, and then Youngjae suddenly snaps upright and stares past Jackson with a question spelled out on his face.

Jackson turns around, and catches a glimpse of Mino hovering in a doorway to what must be his room. The security guard is paused there, and he takes another step back, shifting his weight. Jackson thinks his body language looks — _guarded,_ but maybe that shouldn’t be a surprise.

“Oh,” Mino says, eyes flitting between the two. “You’ve got company?”

Youngjae clears his throat, and he peeks at Jackson awkwardly. Like he can’t decide if he wants to kick him out or not. “Yeah,” he finally says. “Only if Jackson wants to be, I mean? Do you want to stay and watch a movie, hyung?”

Jackson’s breath catches, surprised but unable to hold back his smile. “Sure,” he says. “That’d be nice. Would Mino-ssi like to—?” He turns back to extend the invitation, but Mino’s already disappeared back into his room and shut the door.

Jackson stares a little longer, eyes tracing across the painted wood, down to the gleam of the door’s handle. It looks like it’s probably got a simple knob lock on the inside, no additional chain or swing guards. So he’s not miles away — but it still feels a little distant, Jackson thinks.

“He doesn’t like to hang out with me,” Youngjae says, moving the mess of cushions and blankets apart on the couch. “Says he’s supposed to be invisible, or something.”

Jackson raises his eyebrows, waiting for Youngjae to settle himself before he sits down with a safe pocket of space between them. “Is that pretty typical for your security detail?” He asks.

“No,” Youngjae admits, spreading a fleece throw across his legs and then peeking across at Jackson. He angles a corner of it up, pinched lightly between his long fingers.

Jackson smirks at him, tugging the proffered blanket over himself too as he scoots in closer. _Cute,_ he can’t help but think. This guy is really cute.

“Some of my other bodyguards were actually pretty fun to hang out with,” Youngjae says. “Kai was a dancer and helped me with choreography, sometimes. And Wonho was actually a really good cuddler.”

Jackson rolls his lips together to stop himself from prying, and tilts his face towards him patiently.

“...what?” Youngjae asks him, already starting to laugh at Jackson’s expression.

Jackson keeps his lips tucked away and continues to smile, shrugging his shoulders loose and goofy.

“Stop!” Youngjae says, and an embarrassed giggle pokes through. “I didn’t mean anything like  _ that.” _

“Kai was a  _ dancer…” _ Jackson repeats, waggling his eyebrows. 

“It wasn’t like that!” Youngjae swats at his chest. “I didn’t mean we did anything other than hang out.”

“Okay, okay,” Jackson says, still chuckling. “But I’m sure your company probably doesn’t  _ recommend _ cuddling your security detail.”

Youngjae looks over his shoulder once more, and then turns back with a shrug. “Things are feeling better with Mino hyung for now,” he says. “He even gave me my phone, and apologized for saying  _ grow up.  _ So I’m not going to complain.”

Jackson nods, and looks down at the bottle of vodka.

“You trying to forget something?” He jokes.

Youngjae shrugs, reaching for his glass and taking several gulps. “I need to relax,” he says, with a smack of his lips. “While I can.” 

Jackson’s sharp eyes follow him for another beat. “I can think of a few better ways to relax,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Ohh,” Youngjae’s expression brightens. “Have you got some weed, or something?”

Jackson chokes on his own spit, and Youngjae hurriedly passes the glass to him, gesturing to drink.

Jackson swigs back a gulp of the juice, and then winces, hissing at the startling burn of way too much vodka.

“I don’t think I wanna do anything too hard,” Youngjae continues brightly. “And I don’t like to smoke for my throat, so unless you’ve got edibles, or—?”

“Man, even your  _ drink _ is too hard,” Jackson sputters. “And I don’t have any drugs. Aren’t idols supposed to avoid the really scandalous stuff?”

Youngjae shrugs it off. “Well I didn’t wanna be rude,” he says. “I thought you were offering! I’ve never done anything, but if there’s ever been a time to experiment…? Don’t you think being locked away on a secret, super-private vacation seems like a good time?” 

“I was only offering company,” Jackson pauses, settling the glass back down and sitting up straighter. “I meant relaxing like a massage or, hopping in the jacuzzi.”

Something flickers across Youngjae’s eyes. “Oh yeah,” he says, crisply. “The jacuzzi. I heard you spent some time in there with Mark, yesterday.”

Jackson stares back at him. Is this jealousy, he wonders, or is Youngjae trying to prove he’s over it all? Regardless, Jackson hadn’t done anything with Mark — or anybody else. 

He doesn’t want Youngjae to get hung up on him. But more honestly, he worries about himself getting hung up on Youngjae. 

Still, there’s an ache behind his ribcage when he thinks about parting ways, without ever having even reached out. Without ever having acknowledged this comfortable spark.

Could he really just go back to that? Could he just go back to — before Youngjae?

“Hey,” Jackson attempts. “Are  _ we _ okay?”

Youngjae pauses, and he looks a little surprised by Jackson’s blunt approach. Like he hadn’t expected him to broach the topic.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Youngjae asks, quietly. 

“It feels like you’ve been avoiding me,” Jackson says. “I mean, as much as anybody who just happens to be… a fellow guest at a bed & breakfast could be avoiding another guest.”

Youngjae’s lips quirk, looking sheepish. “I guess I’ve been kinda obvious,” he says. “But I swear I never expected anything um, from you. It’s okay to reject me. I’m just another guest, like you said.”

“But I didn’t reject you,” Jackson says, propping his elbow against the back of the couch and leaning against his palm in puzzled thought. 

Youngjae flushes, and his expression twists in frustration. “But you were down there just  _ honking _ proudly about how you watch Mark and BamBam touch themselves!” he finally blurts out. 

He sits up a bit straighter, shuffling closer to Jackson, closer than Jackson expected he’d get. 

“Look,” he says. “I’m used to attention. I have fans that ask me to marry them, fans who send me panties, whatever. And then I’ve got fans who are too shy to look me in the eye, fans that shake before we even touch. Thing is, none of them —  _ not one _ has bragged to me about jerking off to other idols.”

Jackson rolls his eyes a bit, inhaling slowly. “You know I didn’t mean—!” he blurts out.

“I’m not super experienced,” Youngjae continues, clearly annoyed. “But I know enough about liking somebody, even if it’s just a little bit. I know enough that somebody telling me they jerk off to somebody else isn’t considered  _ romance.” _

“Of course it’s not,” Jackson bites back. “But I was just making conversation. I wasn’t trying to get into your pants.”

Youngjae tips his head at him in confirmation. “So you  _ aren’t _ trying to get into my pants,” he announces. He almost looks relieved, for the time being.

“Not...  _ never,” _ Jackson sputters out. It’s a strange clarification to have to make. But he does want to be honest.

Youngjae stares at him, taking a full pause to process this information. “You want to get in  _ all _ of our pants?” He suggests, next.

Jackson wheezes out another laugh, rubbing at his face. 

“No,” he says, “look, I know I’m flirty, and I know that can seem like I’m, uh, potentially playing people. But it’s just how I talk. And regardless of flirting, with you or anyone else, I really do want to get to know  _ you _ better.”

Youngjae finishes the rest of his drink. “I’m not sure there’s much to know,” he says, peering down into the empty glass. He sets it back on the table with a sigh.

Jackson wonders, once again, if this is a bad idea. It’ll only make it harder, stranger, when they inevitably part ways. But here he is — in Youngjae’s room, on his couch. Sharing a blanket.

“Hey,” says Jackson, as Youngjae exits out of whatever movie he’d initially planned on watching. The screen bounces back to a guide channel, and Youngjae lets his thumb stall on the remote.

“Can I see you…” Jackson murmurs. “As Lorenzo?”

Youngjae blinks at him, surprised. “You want to see my music videos??” He asks. 

“Or I dunno, a concert?” Jackson says. “I don’t really keep up with all the pop music, so I just don’t know what it’s like. I’m more of a hip hop guy.”

Youngjae navigates to a video app, and starts clumsily keying in his stage name. “People usually already know this part,” he says, laughing. “Getting to know me is usually about, um, Youngjae.”

“You don’t have to,” Jackson murmurs, hoping it doesn’t backfire and make him more uncomfortable. “I just wonder what it sounds like.”

“This was my last single,” Youngjae says, queuing up some fan-shot footage from a concert. 

Jackson’s words die in his throat. 

Onscreen, Lorenzo is relaxed, strolling across a massive stage like he was born there. He’s in a pair of leather pants, and his shirt glitters under the intense lights.

His skin is glowing, damp from the sweat of an obviously exuberant performance, and his hair is blue. Shockingly royal blue, it sweeps down over his eyebrows and flutters with each laugh like a wave, casually stunning as he chats with the audience.

Lorenzo is… flirty. He beams down at the screaming girls at his feet with a cheeky, quiet confidence that Jackson realizes he might have already seen, but not recognized.

And then, he starts to sing.

It’s not at all what Jackson expected — and he’s ashamed now, to realize he’d never thought a self-proclaimed idol would actually have much of a voice. And maybe he should’ve gotten a hint from how loud and clear Youngjae’s laughter can be, when it rings out across a room. 

But it’s a delightful surprise. Youngjae’s voice is strong, rich and smooth. And he maintains it effortlessly, even as he slips between his backup dancers and bursts into neat footwork, all while wearing a blinding smile.

Lorenzo spins with a high note now, and the shoulder of his top slips a little to one side. Jackson’s eyes nearly vibrate out of his skull as he realizes the back of it is totally  _ sheer. _

“Yah,” he mutters, wriggling in his seat as his jeans are suddenly uncomfortable. “Since when — why is this concept so sexual?” Onscreen, Lorenzo drops into a squat and rolls his hips. “Aren’t you performing this for young girls?”

Youngjae snorts, squinting critically at the choreography. “I’m about to slip a little, right up... here,” he says. Sure enough, there’s a subtle shuffle amongst the dancers as they all adjust to an error that Jackson wouldn’t have noticed on his own.

“And I don’t know,” Youngjae says. “I have plenty of older fans. And guys, too. Sexy sells.”

“So you were really jealous of some camboys, but you go onstage every night to body-roll and tell fans you love them,” Jackson says, eyes whipping between him on and off the television.

“It is  _ not _ the same thing!” Youngjae protests.

“It’s not,” Jackson agrees. “But this is… this is  _ also _ sexy.”

Youngjae is suddenly smirking at him then, and Jackson starts to understand how his playful personality bends, how it starts to twist into something confident, maybe even a little bit wicked _. _

They keep eye contact for another long minute, Youngjae’s kitten lips curled smugly. Then Jackson barks out an exasperated laugh, uncrossing his legs.

“You didn’t think I’d just drop this tray off and leave,” Jackson says. “Did you?”

Youngjae looks caught somewhere between guilt and delight. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says. 

“The hell you don’t,” Jackson murmurs.

Choi Lorenzo’s sticky ballad continues to unfurl on the TV, his audience sweetly singing along in harmony.

“Listen,” Jackson says, against his better judgment. “I can’t… promise you anything.”

“I’m not supposed to be looking for anything, anyway,” Youngjae says, quickly. 

“You shouldn’t get attached,” Jackson says.

“And neither should you,” Youngjae responds.

Jackson lets his thighs spread apart, draping his arms out along the back of the couch and just staring at him. There’s a comfortable heat in his cheeks, spine tight with anticipation. “Well,” he clears his throat, but his voice is still thick, pitched low. “Don’t make me beg.”

Youngjae looks curious — eyes flickering between Jackson’s expression and his lap. He leans forward, onto all fours, and starts to crawl over.

“Are you expecting... Lorenzo?” He asks, face hovering close. His hands are planted neatly beside Jackson’s thigh, and he looks down the gentle slope of his nose at him.

“Baby,” Jackson growls. “You can be anybody you want with me.”

It seems enough — for now, anyway. For here. While they have each other.

Youngjae reaches out and curls his fingers around Jackson’s jaw, tilting his face up to look him in the eye. The mess of silver rings he’s wearing is cold against Jackson’s skin.

“I promise I didn’t plan this,” Youngjae whispers. “Didn't think I’d see you downstairs at all, and kind of hoped I wouldn’t. Hoped this would all go away.”

Jackson waits. He wants to hear Youngjae say it, wants Youngjae to be clear. He needs both of them to be on the same page.

“But I think I still want to...?” Youngjae offers, breathily.

Jackson surges forward and kisses him, tired of talking. Tired of thinking — and ready for a taste. He pulls him in, manhandling him half into his lap so he can get closer. He yanks one of Youngjae’s knees up over his, settling him astride a tense thigh.

Youngjae’s grip has drifted around the back of his head, and he clutches on by the nape of his neck. His lips fall apart as he makes a little noise in response, pressing forward against Jackson’s hip.

Jackson wraps his arms around him, hands dragging along his body. He scrapes down Youngjae’s shoulder blades to where he tapers at the base of his spine. His hands flatten out hot and warm in the small of his back, pressing him closer, harder against him. 

Mouth yawning wide, Youngjae licks messily into Jackson’s mouth, too eager. Jackson takes his time, patiently letting him explore and letting his tongue curl against his in response. He tastes sweet and hot, like juice and vodka. 

Jackson’s hands are trailing lower now, circling around Youngjae’s soft waist, and drifting down into his pants.

His fingers dip in under Youngjae’s waistband, and then his big, warm hands are sliding down and around Youngjae’s smooth, bare bottom. He kneads his cheeks gently, together and apart, firm but slow. 

He doesn’t want to pressure him beyond whatever is comfortable. But he wants to touch Youngjae — wants to make him feel good.

They’re plastered up against each other. Youngjae is making those messy noises again, little whimpering sounds as he writhes against Jackson, so he takes it as positive and tightens his grip.

Youngjae’s already hot against him, bulge brushing against Jackson’s hip with each little thrust. Jackson hums in approval, peppering little kisses down over his chin until he can break away with a smile.

“You feel good,” he whispers. 

Youngjae whines in response, rocking forward and kissing him again.

“So good,” he murmurs against Youngjae’s lips, and somewhere between that and the breathy little moan he gets in reply, there’s a squeak of a door hinge behind him.

Everyone freezes in place.

Youngjae blinks owlishly over Jackson’s shoulder across the back of the couch, expression melting into one of innocent surprise.

“Oh, Mino hyung,” he greets his bodyguard. “Did you change your mind?”

Jackson, embarrassed but still curious, peeks back sideways, face red hot.

Mino is hovering between his room and the suite’s front door, wearing sunglasses but obviously having seen their position quite clearly. He has a towel slung over his shoulder.

“I’m just going down to swim some laps,” he says, after a moment. 

Youngjae nods, but Jackson’s suspicions come flooding back like an itch furiously scrambling up his spine. He stretches his neck and shifts them around so he can turn more comfortably, grip still tight on Youngjae’s cheeks. 

“You’re okay with leaving him here?” Jackson blurts out.  _ Alone?? _ He adds to himself.

Mino shrugs, and Jackson has to bite down on his tongue in annoyance. 

“You seem fine,” Mino says. “And honestly, I’d rather not listen in, while you two roll around out here.”

He and Youngjae nod stiffly at each other now, and then the door is slamming shut behind him.

Of course, Jackson likes the idea of more private time with Youngjae — but it shouldn’t be this easy, certainly not without security nearby. The  _ what-ifs _ of the situation are burning up around the edges of his vision. What if Jackson was a stalker, looking to hurt Youngjae. What if Youngjae changed his mind and needed Mino’s backup in getting Jackson to leave. What if… Mino isn’t a very good bodyguard?

Jackson yanks his hands back out of Youngjae’s pants and rolls him off his lap. “What movie were you going to watch earlier?” He asks, changing the subject abruptly.

Youngjae flounders for a moment, tugging his sweatshirt down over his lap and staring at him in confusion. “Um,” he says.  _ “Kingsman.” _

“Cool,” Jackson says, biting his lip. “Let’s put that back on.”

“Hyung,” Youngjae says, but he dutifully reaches for the remote. “Did I...?”

Jackson sighs, straightening out his own pants and settling the blanket chastely back over them both. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he promises. “I just… really don’t wanna rush things.”

“You know,” Youngjae hums, even as he queues up the movie. “I’m only here for another two days.”

Jackson nods. “I get that,” he says. “But you deserve to be treated right. To be treated well. And I want to take you on a real date.” He wraps an arm back around the back of the couch, and taps his chest. 

“So, not  _ never,” _ he repeats from earlier.

Youngjae stares at him strangely another moment, before giving in and curling up into his side, wary expression still in place. 

The movie plays out, uninterrupted for a while. But a few minutes in, Jackson feels something cool under his fingertips. 

He glances aside, to find Youngjae pressing his phone into his hand. “Then you’re going to have to put your number in here,” he says. 

Jackson squints at it. “Should I put my name in as something else, in case your manager snoops?” He asks.

Youngjae laughs and hits him on the arm. “And what will he find? Dick pics from my ‘ _ Accountant,’ _ or something?”

“Accountant,” Jackson whispers, thumbs tapping out his number. “That’s better than my first idea —  _ Daddy.” _

Youngjae snorts out loud, eyebrows arched and incredulous. “I’m sorry,” he says, snorting into a fit of laughter. “But you know I’m a digital monster, don’t you? Who exactly would be the daddy here?”

Jackson gapes at him in silence for a moment, and then saves out the contact and hands the phone back to him.

“Thought I told you,” he says with a smirk. “You can be whoever you want with me.”

//

Jinyoung tries not to think about it. Out of sight, out of mind — so he cowers.

But when he brings some fruit and tea into the back office for some afternoon accounting, he catches sight of Jaebeom outside. 

He’s yards away, splitting logs for firewood. He’s in a loose longsleeve, and tight jeans that look too torn up to be warm for winter.

Jinyoung keeps glancing back over his shoulder while he scans expense receipts and moves things idly about around on his computer screen. But the moment he saves out the last image, he gives in, turning his chair around completely. Then he gazes out through the gaps in the blinds with his tea clutched tight. 

Jinyoung thinks about it. He can’t help it, the way his mind keeps drifting back to the memory, back to the sensory overload of Jaebeom’s body beneath his.

And when he watches Jaebeom move now, strong shoulders straining the fabric of his shirt even though it’s already oversized, it’s impossible not to remember. Jinyoung had sat right there, after all, thighs astride that collarbone. 

Jaebeom is broad and thick, brimming with a quiet strength, an intensity that bleeds through with each swing of the axe.

He could take Jinyoung down in an instant. If not by raw power, then his willingness to get dirty. Watching him drag a felled branch through soil and leaves and then hack it to pieces suddenly looks less like helpfulness, and more like a quiet threat. 

Jinyoung watches from behind window panes, from the cushioned comfort of the office, and knows he doesn’t stand a chance. 

Nevermind that Jinyoung’s nearly as large as Jaebeom, nevermind that he’s stuck to a strict exercise regimen for years. Jaebeom looks wild, unbridled.

And his energy is strange, calling out to Jinyoung’s as if they’re magnetized. Like one of them is  _ yin _ and the other  _ yang _ . Complementary, but completely opposed.

Jaebeom has his own duality, even without Jinyoung for contrast. He’s firm and comforting, all at once. Emotionally shut and yet splayed wide open — so proud he couldn’t stand Jinyoung speaking to him informally — but eager to please in private. 

Jaebeom could probably have anything or anybody he wanted, but to want  _ this? _ To want Jinyoung to order him around? To satisfy, and submit.

Jinyoung crosses his legs, suddenly half-hard before he even realizes what path his thoughts have gone down. He takes a huge gulp of tea. 

Jaebeom catches his eye.

Jinyoung chokes, turning away as he spits the tea back out into his cup. He hurriedly shoves it aside, squinting at the spreadsheet on his monitor again.

But the hair on the back of his neck is standing up on end, sweat tickling behind his red ears and he’s certain it’s all been a moment too late. Jaebeom had  _ seen _ Jinyoung, and now he’s staring right back at him.

Frazzled, Jinyoung puts the computer to sleep and moves to the office couch with his plate of fruit. Maybe Jaebeom will think he’d only been at his desk for a moment, and looking out the window for even less than that.

Jinyoung fiddles with the one of the tangerines, working his thumbnail under the skin so he can start the peel. The sudden zest in aroma as he breaks through makes his mouth water, but it coincides with a click of the back door. 

Jaebeom appears, trudging in from the cold outside with a visible puff of hot breath. Axe in hand.

Citrus, sugar, pine. The fresh smell of cold.

Not for the first time, Jinyoung’s blood pressure spikes. Is this it? He wonders. Does he die here, in the office at Aerie? He rips his bit of peel off too harshly.

Frowning, Jinyoung tears his eyes away from Jaebeom’s, and sets back at his task, working the rest of the peel into another spiral.

“Thought of anything to say?” Jaebeom asks, as he leans the axe against the desk. So he won’t be attacking Jinyoung with it — yet.

Jinyoung shrugs, pouting childishly as his cheeks flush.

“I just want you to know,” Jaebeom says, distinctly. “You can’t just  _ leave  _ people like that. Maybe you were just nervous, maybe you didn’t mean anything by it but... it can be really intense, to be left in that state of mind.”

Jinyoung inhales sharply, suddenly piecing together what he’s talking about. How he’d let himself dip into a sensitive headspace, and Jinyoung had just… abandoned him. 

“I didn’t think of that,” Jinyoung admits. He lets the fruit fall back onto the plate beside him with a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m really not used to sex with… roles. Or rules.”

He winces again as he says it, but Jaebeom just looks resigned, rolling his shoulders and avoiding his eyes.

“I get it,” Jaebeom says, eyes downcast and gravel at the back of his throat. “You were only using me. I just don’t know why it took me by surprise. Why I still get so angry when it happens.”

Jinyoung tries not to choke on the guilt as it washes over him. 

Of course it looks bad — Jinyoung had slipped away before Jaebeom even had a chance to fall asleep. Not even delivering on their original, less sordid agreement.

“I just—!” Jinyoung stops abruptly, and shuts his eyes for a moment. He has to take a deep breath to even his voice out. 

He puts the naked fruit back down on the plate, and he feels just as exposed.

On top of it all, Jinyoung is scared. Not just at confronting their inappropriate relationship, at admitting he’d been wrong. But also at however Jaebeom intends to respond. 

“You have a gun,” Jinyoung starts over, eyes open. “Under the dresser. I saw it, and I... didn’t know what it meant. It  _ scared _ me.”

Jaebeom pauses, a frown puzzling over his sharp features. “That’s…” and then his face softens, a hand dragging through his hair with an exhale. “That’s it?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

The earth seems to tilt abruptly. Jinyoung grips onto his knees in shock.

“What do you mean:  _ that’s it?” _ Jinyoung crows, face flushing. “You have a gun laying around, and I’m supposed to just shrug it off??”

Jaebeom tenses for a moment. “I leave the safe unlocked while I’m in my room,” he acknowledges. “Just in case. But I always make sure it’s shut and locked whenever I step out.”

A beat passes, Jaebeom crossing the room to sink into the small sofa with him. The leather groans as his shoulders soften into a tired slump. 

“It’s like I told you,” he continues, fingers knitting together. “I’m here for me. That’s for  _ me, _ just in case.”

There’s a flash of darkness to this statement, a shadow cast that Jinyoung just can’t venture into. Jaebeom already said he couldn’t tell him what he’d gone through. Jinyoung should respect that.

But more than his past, Jinyoung has to come to realize that Jaebeom’s future is just as much of a mystery. 

Is Jaebeom comforted by having a gun there, to defend himself? How else would he plan to use it?

Jinyoung studies the figure on his couch. 

Curled in on himself, Jaebeom’s imposing presence is certainly diminished. He looks like a younger man, all softened edges and uncertainty. Jinyoung feels freshly nervous all over again, as he realizes Jaebeom probably doesn’t know what is going to happen, either.

“Promise me,” Jinyoung finally says, voice cutting precisely through the silence.

Jaebeom looks up to catch his eyes, first from under his lashes, and then with the lift of his chin.

“Promise me at least Yugyeom will be safe,” Jinyoung says. “He seems to trust you; I don’t know why. But just promise me… that he’s right to do so.”

Jaebeom sits up a little straighter, and his lips twist into a bittersweet smile. 

“He made me promise the same thing about you,“ says Jaebeom. 

Jinyoung’s heart aches.

“You two really do belong to one another,” Jaebeom adds, hoarsely.

Exclusion, again. 

“We don’t own each other,” Jinyoung says, sharply. “But…” He pauses, a lump in his throat. 

“We belong  _ here,” _ he finishes the thought.

Jaebeom shifts in his seat again, eyes darting away.

“And you could too,” Jinyoung says, before he can stop himself. 

Jaebeom’s eyes are back on him in an instant, and Jinyoung flushes deeply.

“That’s… hospitality,” he continues, impatient to soften his words. “That’s what I love about this job. Being able to give people a home,  _ away _ from home. Right?”

Jaebeom lets out a soft huff, smile still small. “Look,” he says. “I don’t know the first thing about belonging. We moved nine times before I graduated. I’ve never had friends for more than a few months at a time.”

Jinyoung rolls his lips in between his teeth. This is the most he’s ever heard Jaebeom say about himself. Maybe about anything.

“I got good at it,” Jaebeom says. “At not looking out of place, even when I wasn’t a part of anything. It’s helped in a lot of ways. But — it’s not what I want.”

He pauses.

“You know this stupid haircut isn’t even real!” he ruffles a hand over his head. “I needed to look different. So I wouldn’t  _ be _ what I left behind. And it looks so  _ stupid,” _ he grouses. “Like some idol trying to be edgy.”

Jinyoung swallows heavily, thinking about how he’d scraped his fingers through it as Jaebeom had swallowed around him.

“I like it,” he says, quietly.

They’re on the brink of something, about to step into another chapter of knowing one another that Jinyoung isn’t sure he’s ready for. He’d been wondering who Jaebeom was for so long — but did he really want to find out? Would it change the way he feels?

Jaebeom leans back, tension having evaporated. He bites into his lip as he watches Jinyoung, smile hung crooked. “I should probably get back out there,” he rumbles.

Jinyoung shifts in his seat as his spine goes a little tighter, thighs tensing.

“Or,” Jaebeom lets the word hang, heavy between them.

“You could take a break,” Jinyoung spits out.

The plate of tangerine sits beside him, fragrant and inviting. Jinyoung’s nose twitches and he scoops up a wedge, abruptly. “Have some of this,” he murmurs. 

Jaebeom’s eyes are glimmering, lips parted before Jinyoung fully realizes what he’s about to attempt.

But then he’s already doing it, pressing the fruit into Jaebeom’s mouth with two fingers. It slips inside easily, past the ring of Jaebeom’s lips, into the wet, hot space he’d been obsessing about.

And the slick vacuum of it, the soft tug as Jaebeom swallows it down, is just as addictive as his memory. The wet graze of Jaebeom’s tongue, curling under his fingertips.

Jinyoung’s breath shudders, and then he’s plucking out another piece of tangerine without looking away. Eyes glazed, he keeps his vision focused on Jaebeom’s face, soft and blushing, as Jinyoung feeds him.

“It’s sweet, isn’t it?” Jinyoung whispers, heart fluttering against his breastbone like a bird in a cage.

Jaebeom nods.

Jinyoung slips him one more bite, but this time Jaebeom reaches out and grasps his arm. He holds it still, and as he swallows down the tangerine he leaves Jinyoung’s fingers in his mouth, pressing against his quivering tongue. 

The subtle movements in his mouth: his tongue buckling back to swallow, the rush of saliva as he leaves his mouth wide open — Jinyoung feels it all.

The door swings open.

Jinyoung and Jaebeom freeze, Jaebeom’s grip locked around Jinyoung’s wrist, as his thumb, index, and middle finger are halfway into his mouth. They blink awkwardly at the doorway.

Yugyeom, to his eternal credit, says nothing. 

Instead, he only clears his throat, leaning one long step forward to snatch a folder off the desk. 

Once the file’s tucked safely under an elbow, Yugyeom makes an overly gesticular show of locking the door from the inside, and slams it shut as he leaves. An instant later, his keyring rockets swiftly underneath it, stopping at Jinyoung’s foot.

As if to say:  _ I don’t even want to risk the physical  _ possibility _ of seeing any of this again. _

Jinyoung nods down at the little Moomin keychain politely, having received the message loud and clear.

Jaebeom is still smiling sideways and small when he catches his eye again, gaze gone molten. He loosens his grip on Jinyoung’s wrist and then offers him an open palm, and Jinyoung takes it. He clambers into his welcoming lap as a hum catches at the back of his throat like a purr. 

Jaebeom directs Jinyoung’s offered hand around his neck, and curls the fingers around the warm, stubbled skin to where Jinyoung’s thumb just grazes against his Adam’s apple.

Jaebeom doesn’t say anything this time, just tilts his jaw up, lids dropping low and eyelashes fluttering softly over his dark eyes.

Jinyoung kisses him, and Jaebeom bites back at his lips like he’s starved.

“Is this okay?” Jaebeom asks, between kisses. “Boss?”

Jinyoung’s heart is hammering in his chest, a flush draped across his features from ear to ear. He nods, and Jaebeom captures his lips again.

“Will you… show me?” Jinyoung asks, after slowly tugging his bottom lip out from Jaebeom’s teeth. “Whatever you want, afterwards?”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond for a moment, but the sharp jut of his Adam’s apple bobs under Jinyoung’s fingers as he swallows.

“Whatever you... need,” Jinyoung adds, in a whisper.

Jaebeom nods then, slow and insistent. “You first,” he murmurs, hands stroking up Jinyoung’s thighs.

“Fuck me,” Jinyoung says, breath catching in his throat. “Will you fuck me, if I ask you to?” He still isn’t exactly sure how this works. 

“Just tell me how,” Jaebeom says, gazing up at him. 

“Pin me down,” Jinyoung suggests. “Pin me down and fuck me until I can’t speak.” 

Jaebeom rolls him back before he can finish, pinning Jinyoung’s wrists into the soft leather, the weight of him heavy and warm.

And Jinyoung lets his eyes flutter shut, as Jaebeom’s wet mouth slips down from his jaw to his throat. It’s easy to let go, to let any questions melt out of his mind. This feeling — having control in one manner, and completely relinquishing it in another — it leaves him breathless already.

Jaebeom winds his hands down his hips, pops the button on Jinyoung’s slacks and bunches them down under his bottom.

Jinyoung might not know everything about Jaebeom. But he likes the way the man leans into his touch, the way he listens as he’s told. And now, as his blunt fingertips nudge against him, he knows he’ll like the way they fit. 

“You can be rough,” Jinyoung says, “don’t baby me.”

“You’ll take what I give you,” Jaebeom whispers in his ear. And that sends a flicker, an ache of anticipation deep into Jinyoung.

But then Jaebeom pauses, and he glances back at the locked door, one hand still cranking Jinyoung’s knee up and the other still warm over his taint.“Do you have a condom?” He asks. “And lube? I can run to my room, or we can both—?”

Jinyoung pauses, marveling not for the first time at Jaebeom’s mix of rough and polite. Jinyoung would have let him pound him raw into this old leather upholstery.

But Jaebeom looks down at him softly now, patient and quiet as he helps him out of his shoes and pants.

“In my briefcase,” Jinyoung says. “By the door.”

Jaebeom fetches the items with only a subtle raise of his eyebrows. Jinyoung figures his explanation of being Hyunwoo’s assistant can wait for another time. 

For now, he wants Jaebeom to take him apart. 

And Jaebeom is meticulous — fingers deliberately crooked to pound into him just right, just right, just — until Jinyoung begs to be stretched. He mewls and kicks his heels back into the couch, hips thrusting to meet the slick slap of Jaebeom’s palm against his skin.

So Jaebeom skips another finger. By now, the slide is easy, almost beckoning for his cock. But he still presses into him slowly, lining their hips up and tugging Jinyoung’s ass down onto hi, inch by inch, as the cushion squeaks in protest.

He’s thick, Jinyoung quivering around him with each breath, 

Jinyoung lets out a huge breath as Jaebeom stills inside him, somehow relieved. As if the chemistry that had built up between them had somehow paid off, in spite of all his petty resistance. As if the universe had simply tilted one way, and the hot pulse of Jaebeom inside him had been inevitable.

Jaebeom starts a rhythm with his hips, relentless and firm. Jinyoung takes it, arching up to match him.

“Harder,” Jinyoung whimpers into his ear, and Jaebeom doubles down.

He ducks his head, grasping Jinyoung by the swell of his ass with one hand, and the couch’s armrest in the other. And the added force of his thrusts slams hard into Jinyoung, the slapping of skin pounding out in sync with the squeak of the couch.

Jinyoung stretches his knees farther back against his shoulders, as he digs his nails into Jaebeom’s hips. It’s been a  _ long _ time, he thinks, a little more sensitive than he remembers.

But Jaebeom’s building such lovely pressure, breath huffing hot against the flushed, pink glow of Jinyoung’s shoulder. He’d popped the top button off his shirt when they’d first started kissing, and now it’s down two more. 

Jaebeom scrapes his teeth against the warm skin there, and punctuates a flick of his hips with a slow, ground-out circle. He’s thick, nudging against Jinyoung’s rim until he gasps out, until Jinyoung’s dick twitches untouched, a damp sparkle of precum snapping onto his shirt. 

“Hard- _ err—! _ ” Jinyoung starts to whimper out another command. This can’t be  _ it, _ he thinks, what happened to his stamina? How can he be so close??

But he’s nearly delirious with pleasure, so everything goes drunk and dizzy when Jaebeom manhandles him up off his back and spins him onto his stomach.

Jinyoung’s knees scramble against the leather for a moment, thighs aching, but then Jaebeom’s thick, blunt fingers are opening him back up and shoving his face down against the cushion.

And then, there’s the sudden buzz of his brain going static — and a flickering, hypothetical thrill of  _ what-if? _ traces down his spine. What if Jaebeom’s a bad guy, after all? What if this is all a mistake? He’s in his most vulnerable state, mouthing helplessly into leather as Jaebeom plows into him from behind now.

And just as he wrenches himself up to catch a breath, Jaebeom yanks his wrists out from under him and sharply pulls his arms straight back.

Jaebeom’s hammering into him still, cock squelching through the lube with each thrust. And then — finally, it’s too much. For both of them.

Jinyoung comes first, back pulled taut and utterly impaled. Gasping, silently pleading for mercy but unable to form the words.

Jaebeom is still twitching against him as they finally collapse, still pulsing and warm inside with a quiet, strangled grunt as he topples over the edge after him.  Finally, he eases back and flicks the tied-off condom away. Jinyoung tries not to cry out as he suddenly aches, empty and spent.

Jaebeom stays curled up close to Jinyoung’s shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded and locked on his expression, wrapping his arms around his waist as he presses kisses to the light marks his teeth had left.

Jinyoung twists in his embrace, staring back in quiet contemplation, a tiny smile tugging up at the corner of his swollen lips.

“Thank you,” Jinyoung hums, and brushes Jaebeom’s sweaty hair out of his eyes. “Aren’t you something?”

“Something good?” Jaebeom whispers into his skin, eyes twinkling at the promise of praise, even as they slip shut with exhaustion.

Jinyoung nods, and Jaebeom lets out a sigh against his lips, kissing him again. And then, as Jinyoung watches him drifting off to sleep, he realizes just how vulnerable Jaebeom lets himself be with him. Alone, in the office, without a gun in sight. Jinyoung traces a hand down his face, and decides if Jaebeom can trust him this much — he could trust Jaebeom, too.

Secrets aside, maybe this part-timer is a better fit than Jinyoung had thought. 

//

  
  



	5. Activities & Events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! Whew... not only has it been a while, but a lot has obviously changed. I hope you and your loved ones are staying safe and being good to one another. Things are still feeling strange, but I'm really lucky to be able to work from home, and I'm trying to stay grateful and positive.
> 
> It's a weird time to post fic, I guess, but fandom has always been an important place of escape and comfort for me. So if this can brighten your day a little bit, I think it's still worth continuing.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think. 💖

Jaebeom doesn’t stir again for a few hours. His face is slack and soft, lips parted and breath even in a deep cycle of sleep.

Jinyoung gazes at his peaceful expression and tries to marry it to the dark-eyed, stubborn stranger he’d interviewed so recently. It’s difficult to understand Jaebeom from all of his angles, but Jinyoung hasn’t seen one yet that’s uninteresting.

It’s still not dark out, but the sun has dipped below the crest of the mountain range. Long, cold shadows have started to creep across the room, and the pink of sunset casts a rosy hue over the small office.

Jinyoung is up and about, moving as quietly as he can, when Jaebeom sits up, frosty hair mussed about his head like a halo.

Jinyoung shoots him a tentative smile, waving a sweatshirt sleeve at him from where he’s knelt down beside the sofa. He settles a stack of towels and change of clothes on the carpet beside him. 

Yugyeom had texted and left them at the door. Once again, Jinyoung can’t imagine facing any of this without his best friend’s silent and unquestioning support. It’s kindness incarnate, and Jinyoung knows he doesn’t deserve it.

Jinyoung hesitantly strokes a washcloth down Jaebeom’s shoulder, eyes flickering between them in question. He isn’t sure what Jaebeom expects from him in terms of aftercare. 

Jaebeom smiles at him and takes the rag himself, straightening until he’s upright — naked and relaxed. 

Jinyoung’s eyes slide low, to watch the flick of Jaebeom’s wrist as he drags the cloth down the length of his dick, still sticky with the remainders of lube and cum.

And that shouldn’t be attractive, but Jinyoung’s here on his knees, watching him do it up close. And the lazy, comfortable curl of Jaebeom’s fingers around his girth calls back a hot ache inside of Jinyoung, reminding him of the way he’d stretched open for this cock. 

He wants more.

Jinyoung licks his lips, and suddenly clears his throat. “Touch yourself,” he says, lifting his chin to look Jaebeom in the eye. “I want to see you jerk off.”

Jaebeom freezes, and Jinyoung is pleased to see a flush quickly burning back up in his cheeks. The flare of red spills down his jawline to his neck and chest. He doesn’t say anything, but he sets the cloth aside and grips himself with just his naked palm.

He doesn’t move much at first, just cupping his cock against himself as it warms, already swelling.

Jinyoung watches with hot, glimmering eyes, sucking his lower lip between his teeth and exhaling one long, shaky sigh.

Then Jaebeom starts to play with his head, fingertips rolling gentle and teasing against the ridge of his cut crown. 

Jinyoung lets his lip slowly push back out with the little broken sound he makes, and suddenly his own dick is twitching back to life, pulsing with want all over again.

He grabs the bottle of lube from where they’d last flung it, and eagerly drizzles some over Jaebeom’s fingers. He watches, rapt with attention as the glassy drops leak out from between his knuckles, and Jaebeom starts to stroke in earnest.

Jinyoung leans in closer, gaze heavy as he traces each slick flick of Jaebeom’s wrist. Pressed tight between his grip and his shaft, the lube builds up a steady, squelching sound.

And then Jaebeom’s clutching down around the base, wrapping his other hand around his balls as they tighten up against him. The head of his cock is engorged, flushed red and glistening with precum.

He’ll cum soon, Jinyoung thinks, dizzy again with desire. He wants to see it — but he wants to feel it, too.

Unsure, Jinyoung leans forward abruptly and stills Jaebeom’s fist in place with his own hand. Then he ducks down, mouth parting to let the glistening, flushed tip slide between his lips. 

Jinyoung sucks at him slow, letting his tongue drag up to the slit and back, lapping up each drop with a happy hum. Then he dips back down over him again, enveloping Jaebeom until he can feel him nudge against the back of his throat.

Jaebeom grunts in surprise, slamming his head back against the sofa. “Fuck,” he whispers, and for a moment, Jinyoung wonders if he might’ve done something wrong. 

Is it too submissive? Does Jaebeom still like him like this? 

But: “Please,” Jaebeom whines, hips canting up in hopes of pressing himself deeper. 

And Jinyoung realizes — there’s nothing inherently submissive about this. He can still be in charge, even with Jaebeom’s cock in his mouth. 

He leans away from the movement, lips popping off with a slurping sound, and he tightens the ring of his fingers around the base.

“Eyes shut,” he instructs Jaebeom, firmly pressing his hips back against the couch with his other hand. “And hands off.”

Jaebeom does as he instructs, eyes screwing up tight as he locks his hands behind his head. 

Jinyoung ducks down again, stretching his mouth out around him to take him deeper. He bobs back up and down, thick lips sealed tight as he builds up a tortuous rhythm.

Jaebeom bites off something like a whimper, hips writhing under Jinyoung’s clutch. 

Jinyoung presses onward, slurping around him as saliva starts to run down his length and over Jinyoung's fingers. He pulls back off with a smack, peeking up at Jaebeom. Eyes screwed shut, his jaw is tightly clenched, and his arms are tense and vascular where they frame his head.

Jinyoung ducks back down, tongue flicking out to slide up and down the length of him again. Then he takes just the tip back between his lips, humming as it just barely nudges inside his mouth.

“C-can’t,” Jaebeom grunts from above him, and Jinyoung’s lashes flutter as he looks up at him, keeping the tip just perched against the pillow of his bottom lip. 

“Do you need something?” Jinyoung wonders, letting his mouth nudge against him, each letter warm and slippery.

“C-can I—?” Jaebeom spits out, and Jinyoung’s cock throbs in response. Is he asking Jinyoung if he’s allowed to come? Already?

Jinyoung settles back with an indulgent smile, and even though Jaebeom can’t see him, he shakes his head. “Not yet,” he murmurs. 

The thought of swallowing around Jaebeom as he comes is tempting. What would he taste like? How could he resist knitting his fingers into Jinyoung’s hair? 

But Jinyoung feels delirious with arousal, too charmed by Jaebeom’s every wriggle and moan. He wants to feel him inside again, wants to watch him fall apart from the pleasure one more time.

So he spills a little more lube over the cock in his hand, working it up and down until it’s dripping wet. Then he gets up and clambers across Jaebeom’s lap. Carefully, Jinyoung guides his dick underneath him, counting on having been worked open just hours before. 

Gently, he drops his hips down, easing Jaebeom into himself. 

Jaebeom gasps and nearly thrashes beneath him, but his hands stay dutifully interwoven behind his head, and his eyes stay scrunched shut.

Jaebeom is hot beneath him, stuffed tightly inside. 

Jinyoung doesn’t move for a moment, just savoring the subtle pulse and overwhelming heat. It’s almost too much, Jinyoung still sensitive and tender from Jaebeom’s brutal pace earlier. 

He shifts his weight back, tentatively, and has to shudder out a quiet mewl of astonishment. Jaebeom startles with it, hands coming undone so he can clutch at Jinyoung’s arms in support.

But Jinyoung slams his wrists back, pinning him back into the couch as he lets out a gust of breath. “Feels good,” Jinyoung says. He can only manage a few syllables at a time, bucking his hips as he bites off another sharp sigh. “And hands off,” he reminds Jaebeom.

Jinyoung leans in to kiss him soundly. He starts to bounce, slow and tense, punctuated with a tight swivel of his hips. He keeps a hand around his own cock, but he doesn’t stroke it yet.

“You forgot… a condom,” Jaebeom says, between kisses.

Jinyoung lets Jaebeom lick into his mouth and suck hard on his tongue before he completely processes what he’s just heard.

Jinyoung breaks back then, with a spittled gasp. “S-sorry,” he says, sincerely, eyes wide. But he’s still rolling his hips, lifting up and dropping himself back down. “Did you want—?”

“You feel so good,” Jaebeom groans back at him, hips slapping up to meet Jinyoung’s in as much permission as he can manage at the moment. 

Jinyoung can feel him throbbing inside himself, and he doesn’t know if it’s the raw contact of their skin or the frenzied, sloppy pace. 

So Jinyoung keeps going, riding Jaebeom even as his knees start to rub raw against the leather of the couch.

“Can I...?” Jaebeom whispers again, and he whines it out at such a desperate pitch that Jinyoung kisses it off his lips with a smile.

“Come inside me,” he beckons, and Jaebeom groans, lifting both of them up off the couch as he manages one good, final thrust. 

Jinyoung moans in approval, grinding out tight circles as Jaebeom fills him up. Each hot pulse of cum inside him builds more sensitive pressure, pushing him closer and closer to the brink of orgasm. 

“Can I… touch you?” Jaebeom finally asks him, hands coming undone and opening his eyes. His voice is clearer now, and Jinyoung starts in surprise, not expecting Jaebeom’s question to have been about him this whole time. 

“Yes,” Jinyoung whispers back, “please.”

Jaebeom wraps those same thick fingers around his cock, and with a few forceful tugs, Jinyoung’s tumbling over the edge. 

He keeps his eyes wide open, enjoying the view of Jaebeom’s hand on him, of his knees knocked apart to straddle Jaebeom’s waist. 

Jaebeom strokes him all the way through it, working his own spunk down the length of his dick until Jinyoung is whimpering in protest. 

But still, Jinyoung keeps Jaebeom inside him, even as they’re both soft and spent. Over-sensitive, Jinyoung doesn’t move for a while, slumped over Jaebeom and breathing hard into the damp skin of his neck. Their heartbeats flicker frantically, out of sync against each other’s skin.

“Is this okay?” Jaebeom whispers.

Jinyoung slowly leans aside, in a daze. “I’m...” he murmurs, a little self-conscious even after what they’ve just shared. “I’m clean.”

They stay still a little longer, kissing quietly until the sticky rub of Jaebeom inside him is more irritating than endearing. Jinyoung carefully eases off to one side, thighs trembling.

They’re still breathing heavily, leaned up against one another on the couch as they both seem to reassess the situation.

“Have you ever been tested?” Jinyoung asks quietly, as the fog of sex starts to clear from his brain.

Jaebeom looks suddenly troubled, brows wrinkling. “Yeah… last year,” he says. “Came back clean,” he clarifies, but the words look like they taste bitter in his mouth. He sits up straighter, pausing as his eyes glass over. He tosses Jinyoung another towel from the stack on the floor, but he doesn’t look at him as he stands up and starts to wrangle his way into Yugyeom’s sweatpants.

Jinyoung’s stomach churns, and he tries to keep himself from panicking in doubt. Jaebeom hasn’t outright lied to him yet, and this would be particularly offensive. But then, why would the memory of a clean test make him so visibly uncomfortable?

“I should be getting back to my room,” Jaebeom murmurs, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “The cats get cranky if I give them dinner too late. I’ll get back to the firewood first thing tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

Jinyoung can only nod and watch him leave, feeling the sudden distance like a shard of ice has been wedged between them. A moment before, they’d been in another world, warm and glassy-eyed and barely capable of stringing words together.

Now, Jaebeom hesitates by the door, glancing back at Jinyoung from over his shoulder. “I just wasn’t happy then,” he says quietly, as if he knows what Jinyoung is still thinking about. “I wasn’t happy when I got tested. So I don’t like to think about it.”

Jinyoung’s face contorts into a frown of concern, but it’s too late to question or comfort him any further. Jaebeom is already slipping out of the room.

Restless, Jinyoung finds the other pair of pants and hastily yanks them on. He’s even sweatier than he had been waking up, so the fleece drags reluctantly against his skin. But he’s in a rush to get up to his room for a shower. 

He needs to wash off this film of arousal and awkwardness, before he can comfortably interact with the guests again. Before he can feel like himself again.

As he cracks the office window open to let out any lingering musk, he wonders how long it’ll be until Jaebeom shares his story. And more to the point, what if he never does? Is Jinyoung ready to accept him, as he is?

And more interestingly: Jaebeom had said he hadn’t been happy _then._

Jinyoung can’t help the secret, tiny thrill that shoots through him now, even through the dull ache at the base of his spine. Indulgent, he turns the thought over and over again in his mind.

Can he make Jaebeom happy?

//

Later that evening, BamBam maneuvers his drone easily, long fingers flicking across the control pad without a second glance.

The camera feeds directly back to his open laptop in the dining room, and Jinyoung watches, captivated. “It’s stunning,” he says, as the drone sweeps over the back of the mountain, lush treetops parting aside to where Aerie is perched at the edge of the cliffs, a glowing beacon in the darkness. 

The drone soon hums right over the pool, sending water rippling as it flies close to the patio’s edge to take the steep drop down towards the river.

“Could I buy this footage for our use, too?” Jinyoung asks.

BamBam snorts, eyes still fixed on the monitor as he maneuvers the drone back up from the valley. It’s not until it’s settled safely back on the concrete that he releases the control pad, and then it hangs comically bulky around his thin neck as he carefully brings the drone back inside.

But he doesn’t seem to mind the weight, still wearing the controls even as he’s settled back at his computer. He scrolls back and forward through his library of footage, humming in thought. 

“BamBam?” Jinyoung prompts.

“Sure,” BamBam says, absentmindedly. “I mean, I won’t charge you. You’re letting me film this without any official permits or fees, anyhow.”

Jinyoung pauses, suddenly pouting. “So I am,” he says, eyebrows wrinkled. “How much would this sort of fee get up to, anyhow?”

“Well sometimes they try to price us out,” BamBam says. “If they know the uh, _nature_ of our shoot might not play well for a location’s publicity.”

Jinyoung bites into his lip, weighing out the risk. But after looking into it, BamBam and Mark’s audiences are bigger than he’d thought — diverse, too. If this piques enough new interest for them, maybe it would balance out any snooty losses over impropriety.

“But this is just for Mark’s fashion portfolio,” BamBam rattles on. “It’s very legit. So I don’t know, a couple thousand?”

Jinyoung turns to outright glare at him, and BamBam just chuckles, queuing up another clip.

“This one from the other morning is super sharp,” he says, gesturing to the screen. “I’ll send you a few to pick from, but watch here — _skrrrrr,”_ he makes a little purr as the camera swings wide around the corner of Aerie’s floor-to-ceiling windows. “You get a really nice shot of the compound, even into some of the outward-facing rooms and halls.”

Jinyoung leans in and smiles, heart fluttering as he takes in the sight. It’s true, Aerie looks pretty damn good, all sleek concrete angles and clean glass. It’s not every day he gets to see it from above, spying down at the inhabitants as they bustle between their rooms.

He can spot himself in the kitchen, setting up breakfast with Yugyeom by his side. The clip loops over again, and this time Jinyoung even sees Jaebeom out back, chopping wood.

“The perfect bird’s eye view,” BamBam says.

“Aerie _is_ named for an eagle’s nest,” Jinyoung offers. “They mate for life, and like to return to the same nest every year.”

“Ohh,” BamBam shoots him a sly, narrow glance. “So you and Yugyeom are mated?”

“Shut up,” Jinyoung says easily, and then does a double take as he realizes, in horror, that he’s never said something so rude to a guest before.

But BamBam cracks into a genuine laugh, beaming across at Jinyoung as if he’s proud of him. “It’s alright,” he says. “Yugyeom already explained your weird platonic marriage. Or tried his best, I guess.”

Jinyoung considers him for a moment, lips twitching. “So now, do I get to make fun of you and Mark having weird platonic sex on camera?” He asks.

“Ayyy,” BamBam scrunches up his face like a child. _Cute,_ Jinyoung thinks reluctantly. “Is that what Yugyeom told you? I said that was just how we met.”

Yugyeom hadn’t told him anything of the sort, but Jinyoung had drawn his own conclusions based on Jackson’s conversation with them. 

It’s a strange thing to have confirmed so candidly, but it doesn’t ruffle Jinyoung as much as it might have a few weeks ago. The more time he spends around this group of guests, the more he finds them sort of... unconditionally charming. 

That could be a dangerous feeling, he reminds himself. 

Just as he’s about to lean back and ask BamBam another question, something strange catches his eye onscreen. “Hey,” he murmurs, and taps the space bar to pause it himself. “Is that… Mino?” 

The security guard is in clear view through a window, and he’s standing beside what Jinyoung knows is Jaebeom’s door.

“What is he doing,” he murmurs, squinting at the screen.

Mino seems to be trying to open it, tapping at the handle as he glances back over his shoulder. 

“That’s not his room?” BamBam asks.

“It’s Jaebeom hyung’s,” Jinyoung whispers.

“Has your part-timer been two-timing?” BamBam wonders with a snicker, and Jinyoung’s face goes from pale to pink in a flash. “I thought he was hooking up with _you.”_

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, and then leans away from the looping video, crossing his arms. “Of course we aren’t,” he lies. He watches Jaebeom split the same log, over and over. So he wasn’t even in the room at the time.

“Maybe Mino-ssi is just looking around for… some security reasons?” Jinyoung wonders out loud.

BamBam gasps. “Is Jaebeom secretly a Lorenzonator?”

Jinyoung snorts, but he does allow the treacly sweet image to distract him for a moment. He pictures Jaebeom with a Lorenzo lightstick and an LED sign declaring _‘Real Men Love Lorenzo!’_

Jinyoung smirks to himself. _Cute!_ His brain screams.

Mark and Yugyeom appear beside them now. Mark is sporting a full face of makeup, his bangs neatly clipped up and apart. Yugyeom carries a tray of hot cocoas over from the kitchen.

“Now _this man_ is a host,” BamBam sighs in excitement, snatching a mug up and slurping loudly at the whipped cream. 

Jinyoung shoots him a playful sneer.

“Come on,” Yugyeom says, hovering beside Mark with a grin. “I know you want one.”

“I can’t have anything before this shoot,” Mark whines, pretending to swat him. “It’s for _swimwear_ — you can’t hide even an ounce of water weight in a Speedo.” 

“A Speedo?” Yugyeom repeats, and his cheeks flush at the mere mention. “A tiny little swimsuit in this weather?? Is that a good idea?”

BamBam smacks his lips as he sets his mug down, looking proud. “It’s a classic concept,” he says. “Think of the contrast. That’s why we asked you guys not to sweep off all the snow.”

Jinyoung gazes out over the patio and he has to admit, the scattered, glittering drifts of snow under the string lights do heighten the fantasy. The pool lets off a lovely fog of steam, curling up around the edges of the patio and melting off little rivulets of ice water. 

Everything looks quiet and mysterious. Mark will surely seem like some sort of fantasy ice prince from a manhwa. Even more than usual.

Yugyeom suddenly notices the footage they’ve left up on screen, and he lets out a little noise of surprise. “What’s Mino-ssi doing there?” He asks, pointing. 

BamBam moves his finger away, worried about smudges.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” Jinyoung murmurs. 

“We thought he might have a bad feeling about Jaebeom?” BamBam suggests. 

“I did, at first,” says Jinyoung, hoping his ears aren’t too red.

But Yugyeom smirks knowingly at Jinyoung. “You’ve been feeling _something,_ alright,” he says with a grin.

“Shut up,” Jinyoung stands up and snatches a mug from his tray. “You’re one to talk, anyway,” flicking his chin at BamBam.

Mark lets out a little gasp, pointing mutely at Yugyeom in surprise.

“What?” BamBam whines. “Don’t act like you had no idea — I told you I was into him.”

Mark scoffs. “Is that _allowed?”_ He asks.

Yugyeom shrugs, lashes fluttering at Jinyoung. “Of course it is — it’s not like I’m his _boss_ or something.”

BamBam and Mark turn smug faces back at Jinyoung, and he lets out an exasperated noise.

“Everything has been consensual,” he mumbles into his mug, pushing away from the table and shuffling off to the kitchen to do some aggressive washing up.

“Am I really the only one not getting any action around here?” Mark wonders, after a moment. “Have you guys seen me??”

“Aw hyung,” BamBam coos. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been sexting all week, I’ve seen you curled up with your phone like some hunchbacked little witch over a cauldron.”

“That hardly counts,” Mark whines. “V never hooks up in person anyway, it’s well-known in the industry.”

“You’re sexting V?” Yugyeom raises his eyebrows. “Wow, that’s pretty impressive. Who’s the most famous person you’ve hooked up with?”

Mark scrunches his face up in thought and then chuckles to himself. “I’ll spare you,” he says. “The famous ones are never the most memorable.”

Yugyeom clucks out his disappointment, but drifts dutifully back to the kitchen with the remaining cocoa and sets it on the counter. “I’ll just leave this here,” he calls back to Mark. “And if you think maybe your blood sugar could use a little boost, I’m sure the Speedo will understand.”

Jinyoung peeks across at Mark to catch his reaction, and the model is sharing a gentle, secret smile with BamBam. As if to say, he _is_ pretty sweet. 

Jinyoung’s chest goes warm as Yugyeom sweeps around him to put away the empty tray.

At this moment, he doesn’t want anything to change. There’s something blissful, something fulfilling, about this little group of people. And like this, helping one another with promotional footage, or a sugary little pick-me-up, they feel like a team. And on top of all that? Jinyoung’s getting dick again. 

Life is good.

BamBam starts to put away his drone and unpacks his camera equipment next. “Will one of you guys give me a hand with the lanterns?” He asks, but when he looks up, he directs his gaze right to Yugyeom, across the kitchen counter. “They’re still up in our suite, but we need to get them all lit and floated out onto the pool.”

Jinyoung and Mark share a smirk as Yugyeom cheerfully agrees, following BamBam out of the room.

“They might be a while,” Mark warns him, dropping into a chair.

Jinyoung nods, trying not to picture it in too much detail. He puts his clean mug away and drifts back out to the dining room. 

It’s not awkward, but over the past week, he and Mark haven’t talked much individually. He settles across from him with a tentative smile, wondering if it’d be rude to ask more questions about celebrity boyfriends.

Mark peers across at Jinyoung curiously, ducking his chin and squinting bright eyes at him.

“So,” he hums, voice deep and light all at once. “How are things going with you?”

Jinyoung smiles back at him blankly, unsure about the depth of his question.

“I’m doing well,” Jinyoung says, as breezy as he can be. “Have you been enjoying your stay?”

“It’s been great,” Mark scrunches up his face, teeth peeking out of a tight grin. “But I mean — I’m being nosy, okay? How’s it going with you and the part-timer?”

So this is about Jaebeom, Jinyoung realizes. He sits up a little straighter, wondering how to handle this. He doesn’t usually discuss anything too personal with the guests, and he’s wondered about Mark’s own conversations with Jaebeom in the past. He’s not sure what he’s getting at.

“You’ve just seemed so drawn to him,” Mark adds, a little softer. “Like nobody else exists. And you heard me, I have a good amount of experience. So I just figured, maybe you’d like to talk to somebody other than Yugyeom, for once?”

Jinyoung weighs it out in his mind. It’s true, Yugyeom has heard enough. And what has Jinyoung got to lose, if Mark can already read this much from the surface?

“Honestly, it’s just been a little confusing,” Jinyoung admits. “Because I don’t know much about him.”

Mark hums appreciatively. “We love them dark and mysterious,” he says. “And you’ve tried talking to him?”

“He said there’s not much he can share with me,” Jinyoung says. “He’s trying to distance himself from his past… and I do get that.”

“But you still wish you knew,” Mark says. “Naturally.”

Jinyoung nods, ears tingling as a blush spreads out across his features. “I don’t want to pry, or be childish about it. But what if it’s something awful?”

Mark stares across at him a little longer, and just before the silence starts to feel uncomfortable, he breaks into a slow smile. 

“It’s too late, isn’t it?” He asks.

Jinyoung’s head buzzes with the question. “What?” He murmurs.

“It’s too late to warn you not to get attached,” Mark says.

Jinyoung leans back with a sigh. He and Jaebeom are closer now, for sure. But they’ve never spoken in emotional terms, not even when Jinyoung tells Jaebeom what to do with his dick. They’re still casual, and Jinyoung stubbornly clings to this as the last bastion of normalcy in their relationship.

Because Jinyoung can _rationalize_ being sexually attracted to someone — to engaging with them on a physical basis only. Chemistry can be strong, inexplicable and quick.

The soft, delicate flush that Jinyoung loves to see springing up across Jaebeom’s skin has nothing to do with his past. He doesn’t _need_ to know everything about Jaebeom just to fuck him.

But he wants to.

There’s just something captivating about Jaebeom. Even in his most contrasting colors. And sure, he can come off a little proud. But he’s also efficient, patient and warm. He fits neatly into Jinyoung and Yugyeom’s existence, as if he’s been there from the beginning. 

Which is what worries Jinyoung the most. He’s started to think he might miss Jaebeom, if he left.

And maybe — Jinyoung has started to think of Jaebeom as his. 

“Well,” Mark finally says, looking pleased with his assessment. “I don’t know how helpful this is, but I’ve dated some pretty interesting characters. Good guys, bad girls. And somehow, it always feels new. A little mystery is fine, in the beginning.”

Jinyoung nods.

“But other mysteries?” Mark says, fiddling with an earring as his expression softens. “They can be dealbreakers. I dated a guy who was in a gang, once. And on one hand, it was terrifying. I could’ve been a target.”

Jinyoung feels queasy. These are the kind of ideas he’s been avoiding thinking about. 

“But on the other hand? He was never rough with me,” Mark says. “And the idea that he _could_ be — I won’t lie, there’s a chemistry to it that doesn’t make much sense. I guess we coasted off of that as far as we could. But when the novelty faded, I started to realize I was complicit. Ignoring that lifestyle, it still validates it.”

Mark’s expression shifts as he looks off into the distance, as if he’s staring out at a ghost of his former self.

“It sounds sort of gross now,” he says. “But at the time, I was so into him that the danger felt good. I was… proud, I guess? That I could be so important to him. That _I_ could be something that hurt him.”

Jinyoung winces, staring down at his nervous fingers and budging back the cuticles on each nail. It’s not the same as his situation with Jaebeom — but then again, he doesn’t know if it is or not. 

“But I couldn’t hurt him in any other way,” Mark continues. “And if I was _really_ important, why wouldn’t he give that up? Why wouldn’t he keep me safer by leaving?”

“Even if he left,” Jinyoung murmurs. “Would he really be safe?”

“Who knows?” says Mark. “Anyway, I left him, and he didn’t try to get me back. Nothing went wrong. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t been in danger, the whole time.”

Jinyoung tries to hide a wince. There’s a kind of comfort in ignorance, for sure. But it’s not actually safe. 

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t even start with someone like that again,” Mark says. “We always have to make a decision at some point, even if it’s not that dramatic — is his mystery really worth it? Whatever it is he’s hiding, _is_ there a story where you stay with him?”

Jinyoung’s chest aches, and he avoids Mark’s eyes nervously. Because he doesn’t know. And he might never know.

Mark shrugs. “I do think about the _what if,_ sometimes,” he says. “Ride or die sounds so romantic, you know?”

“But shouldn’t that mean loyalty to each other?” Jinyoung asks. “Not to his gang.”

Mark nods, mulling it over until he gives an impatient shrug. “Still, leaving that world behind is tough,” he says. “And nobody likes a rat.”

Jinyoung’s face twists up, and he crosses his arms stubbornly. He doesn’t want to argue — but he’d rather have someone do what’s right, even if it’s unattractive.

All Jinyoung had ever wanted was someone who wanted him back, wholly and sincerely. He wanted to be _enough._ It shouldn’t feel like such an impossible standard.

Junmyeon had seemed like a man with integrity — every time he’d insisted he was only keeping Jinyoung at bay to avoid rumors at school, Jinyoung had been patient. Until someone else had made it worth putting everything out there.

Hyunwoo had been a good man, too. Relatively, maybe he could be too honest, with no real attachment in any of his affairs. Until someone else had inspired a lifetime of commitment.

So maybe Jinyoung’s judge of character isn’t quite as sharp as he’d thought. 

Mark is smiling now, eyes glittering. “Well, anyway,” he says. “I doubt you’ve got anything to worry about. Jaebeom seems like a nice guy.”

But Jinyoung is left even more nervous than he’d been before. 

//

Jinyoung tries to push these thoughts out of his mind the next entire day. He holes up in the office again, although this time he doesn’t even bother with the pretense of administrative work.

He’s bundled up on the couch in a thick blanket, reading a book he’s already read ten times. It’s slow going — he keeps rereading lines and circling back on the same pages. 

He tries to dip out of his own space, hoping to find the right written scene to inhabit instead. But even a romantic, antique countryside in some faraway land can’t tear his attention completely away from Jaebeom.

Instead, it’s all too easy to picture Jaebeom in the story; a rakish stranger talking back to a noble. Knee-high hunting boots tracking mud across an expensive rug. Barmaids throwing themselves at him.

Jinyoung flings the book down on the floor and sits up, annoyed with himself.

He needs to be more careful. This isn’t a pulpy fantasy — it’s Jinyoung’s real life. He can’t keep throwing caution (and condoms) to the wind and expect it all to work out. 

But then the back door opens, and Jaebeom appears with a stack of letters and parcels from their mailbox down at the bottom of the driveway. His hat and shoulders are dusted with snowflakes, which start to melt off as soon as he shuts the door behind him. His nose and cheeks are flushed pink as he neatly piles the mail on the desk.

His eyes meet Jinyoung’s — dark and intense, already sparkling as he gives Jinyoung just half of a smirk.

“Working hard?” He asks.

And Jinyoung’s already back in his romance novel.

Jinyoung tosses his blanket aside and gets to his feet, hands flying to his hips. “You’re not the only one allowed to take breaks,” he says.

Jaebeom yanks his beanie off his head then, and his hair is left in a staticky twist. He runs his hand through to smooth it back out, and then scratches more insistently at the back of his skull. 

“You know… you should take those extensions out if they bother you,” Jinyoung says, watching him in amusement. His arms come undone, fingers flexing at his sides.

“I knew you’d tell me to, eventually,” Jaebeom says, now flushing doubly from cold and irritation. “Not the right kind of _‘visual interest,’_ for a guy like you.” 

Jinyoung’s lips pout in disapproval. “What are you talking about?” He asks. “I like it. But I want to run my fingers through it without ripping out a track. Why don’t you just grow out your own hair?” 

Jaebeom wavers, looking caught between the compliment and the question as if it’s quite the conundrum. He takes his time peeling off his heavy coat, and hangs it neatly beside the door.

“I just didn’t,” he finally says, dismissive. “Nobody tells me what to do with my style.”

“Clearly,” Jinyoung jokes, before he can stop himself.

He isn’t sure how Jaebeom will react — but he’s met with a bright peal of laughter, breathless and genuine. 

“I’ll give you that one,” Jaebeom says, once he’s caught his breath. But he’s still smiling, even as he rolls up the sleeves of his thermal and steps closer to him.

Jinyoung bites at his bottom lip, unsure what to say next. It’s especially hard figuring out how to talk to Jaebeom right now, because he doesn’t want to push things. He doesn’t want to go trampling into a potential minefield with his curiosity.

But it’s hard. Because he wants to _know_ Jaebeom. Now, more than ever.

“Were you upset... by what I said, this morning?” Jaebeom suddenly asks him, face tightening. He turns to look Jinyoung in the eye, and his piercings glimmer with the shift in light. Jinyoung thinks of pixie dust, thinks of snow in the sun. Jaebeom looks lovelier every day to him, and it’s terrifying.

“I’m not upset,” Jinyoung says, honestly. “I just don’t understand... and I suppose I don’t have to. But it did worry me, a little.”

“It’s all true,” Jaebeom says, face softened. “I’ll find the paperwork for you.”

“I just wasn’t sure if… it might mean you were regretting things,” Jinyoung blurts out, before he can stop himself. “Starting to reconsider what we were doing.”

Jinyoung never sets out wanting to self-sabotage. But the insecure part of him claws its way to the surface, in every relationship, and tries to give his partner an out. A final warning, of sorts. As if to say: _if you don’t want me, I understand._

“Shut up,” Jaebeom’s voice suddenly slices through his self-pity, and he looks flustered, a little surprised with himself when Jinyoung turns to him.

“Why would you think that??” Jaebeom continues, rubbing at his neck. He sounds annoyed, but not angry. “I have enough regret in my life — I won’t live that way anymore.”

Jinyoung feels an unexpected pain in his chest, and he shrinks back, mulling over the words. Did this mean Jaebeom didn’t believe in emotional connection anymore? Was he so jaded and afraid of attachment that sex meant nothing to him?

There’s no sense of relief, Jinyoung realizes. A week ago, that might have sounded freeing to him.

But today, Jinyoung knows this will be unsustainable. He’ll get attached — just as Mark had warned him not to. It’s better to cut things off sooner rather than later.

Jinyoung pauses, and a shrill, cartoonish version of Yugyeom’s voice echoes in his head. _Inherently inappropriate,_ it sings.

“What if I told you — we _should_ stop,” Jinyoung says, more soberly. “That what we’re doing is a bad idea?”

“I’d say okay,” Jaebeom says, easily. “If that’s what you really want.”

Jinyoung is already nodding, heart feeling tossed and twisted like a sail in a storm.

“But I don’t regret it,” Jaebeom adds. “Not a minute of it.”

And as these words slowly filter through to Jinyoung, he stops nodding. It feels like something’s come undone — like he’s unraveling.

He sways in place, and Jaebeom reaches out, as if he’d seen it before Jinyoung had felt it. He tugs him towards him, wrapping an arm around his waist. His hand slides up Jinyoung’s back slowly, tracing the arc of his spine. With his fingers splayed out, he rakes out five little paths of fire, vines of heat that spread out along Jinyoung’s body.

“I thought you—,” Jinyoung swallows, suddenly flushed pink and playing shy. “Didn’t you tell Yugyeom I was annoying?”

“You _are_ annoying,” says Jaebeom. _“Still._ That’s never changed.”

Jinyoung can’t completely hide his smile, not even bothering to defend himself.

“But you’re also… beautiful,” Jaebeom adds. “And smart, and successful, and you do this thing with your hips where it feels like I’ll die when I cum. Do you do that on purpose?”

“No,” Jinyoung says, bold and breathy and obviously lying. 

And then Jaebeom’s whole body is pressed up against his, fingers tight around his wrists as he swings them around and angles Jinyoung’s back against the wall. Aerie’s business license rattles in the frame beside his head. 

“Brat,” Jaebeom whispers, right against his lips. 

Then his mouth is crashing into Jinyoung’s, lips prying his apart. The soft stroke of his tongue is suddenly all Jinyoung can taste. And everything is blinding, hot and starry, as Jaebeom moves harder against him. He digs his fingers in around his waist, thumbs scraping at hipbones. 

Jinyoung is pinned, and he can’t help but loop his arms around Jaebeom’s shoulders, can’t help but arch up and kiss back more fervently.

“I want all of you,” Jaebeom whispers into his mouth, and then his hands are curling down and around Jinyoung’s asscheeks, kneading his fingertips into the flesh. “Want to take you apart.”

And Jinyoung suddenly remembers Mark’s admission about roughness: _there’s a chemistry to it._

What is it about the idea of danger — even just the _potential_ — that turns him on? 

Jinyoung loses himself to it, mouth wide and drooling open for the kiss, whimpering with each thrust as Jaebeom rocks into him, cleaving his cheeks apart. 

But the door creaks as it swings open, and Jaebeom suddenly shoves them apart, eyes gone wide and frantic. Before Jinyoung can respond, Jaebeom’s yanked him behind himself, breathing heavy.

Dizzy, Jinyoung peers around Jaebeom’s shoulder to find Jackson in the doorway. And it’s surprising to see him looking this way — deadly serious with a stony glare. He shuts the door and strides purposely across the floor.

“I’ve been trying to call,” Jackson says, pocketing his phone. “You didn’t say anything to Mino, did you?” He directs this to Jaebeom, ignoring Jinyoung entirely.

“No,” Jaebeom says, swiping spit off his lip with a sleeve. “I haven’t talked to him at all since he asked me that stuff about a nickname.” 

Jinyoung keeps glancing between them as he’s buried under a wave of slow, creeping confusion. His mind is racing. How are Jackson and Jaebeom involved — Jinyoung had thought they were barely even flirting. But Jackson apparently has his number. And what’s this about Mino?

Jackson clucks in disappointment, crossing his arms. “I hate waiting for him to make a move,” he says. “But that’s our best bet.”

Jinyoung creeps out from behind Jaebeom, brows crinkled in question.

Finally, Jackson acknowledges him, clearing his throat. “Sorry for interrupting,” he says. “But I need to talk to Jaebeom alone. It’s very important.”

Jinyoung glances at Jaebeom in frustration, lips already parting to argue. But Jaebeom just nods once at him, slow and steady. 

His certainty is Jinyoung’s only anchor amidst a storm of confusion. And Jinyoung remembers, in spite of all his earlier bluster, he’s already started to trust Jaebeom.

So all he can do is nod back at him, lips pressed together, and then slip out past Jackson.

In the hallway, Jinyoung lets out a breath. He wants to support Jaebeom, if their connection is real. But with the way Jaebeom and Jackson were speaking, Jinyoung can’t help but think about Mark’s warning.

He sets out towards the kitchen with a shaky sigh, mind set on distracting himself with a drink. But as he rounds the corner into the living room, he hears a soft chirp.

He glances aside, and there’s a cat — curled up neatly on a corner chair as if it’s lived here all along. They make eye contact, and Jinyoung suddenly recognizes its dark brown patches and bright blue eyes from Jaebeom’s room. 

The cat lets out another little noise, something that rumbles up like a little purr but isn’t yet a meow. _Mmrrraw?_ It blinks slowly at Jinyoung as if it recognizes him as well. But how did it get out here?

How did it _get out?_

Jinyoung’s stomach lurches, remembering the footage of Mino trying Jaebeom’s doorknob.

“Don’t run,” he whispers, as he crouches down beside the chair. He extends a shaky hand for the cat to sniff. “Please?”

The cat seems to accept his greeting, rubbing its soft little cheek against his fingernails. Its eyes narrow into a pleased expression, and it reminds Jinyoung of Jaebeom when he sleeps.

“I’m sorry little one,” Jinyoung says softly, reaching out and scooping it up into his arms. “But you’re not supposed to be out here.”

The cat lets out a louder meow now, clearly less happy with being picked up, but it relaxes in Jinyoung’s grip as he stands with it. 

Breath still stuttered, he rushes back over to the office and raps out a short warning before he goes barging back in.

He’s nervous about what Jaebeom and Jackson will be doing when he finds them, but they’re a respectable distance apart as they peer down at something on Jackson’s phone.

Jackson frowns as he looks up, but Jaebeom melts, eyes going round and warm as he rushes over.

 _“Nora-jjing,”_ he murmurs in greeting, slipping the cat out of Jinyoung’s arms and pressing his cheek against hers. “What’s going on?”

“She was out in the hall,” Jinyoung says, dizzy with concern. “And, and earlier, when we were looking at BamBam’s drone footage, we saw Mino trying your doorknob. So now, I’m—? I’m realizing that might _mean_ something to the two of you?”

Jaebeom looks pale as he lifts his head and casts a seasick expression over at Jackson. “My room,” he repeats. “Do you think—?”

“Your gun,” Jinyoung blurts out, brain clattering with panic. “Does that have anything to do with this?”

Jaebeom just glares at Jackson. Jackson looks grim, but he doesn’t move for one long minute. Finally, he tucks his phone away and lets out a slow sigh. “Okay,” he says. “How much does he know?”

“I haven’t told Jinyoung anything,” Jaebeom says. “Not about me, and not about Mino.”

“Well,” Jackson raises his eyebrows, nodding at Nora. “Let’s put her back and get a good look around your room. Even if nothing’s missing, we can’t act like we know he was in there. You need to stay cool.”

Jaebeom frowns, lips curling into an impatient snarl. “You’re just going to wait for something to happen?” He asks. “When we know exactly what’s going on—?”

“We _don’t,”_ Jackson says, gruffly. “There’s still not enough linking Mino to Jiyong, and you know it.”

“He’s working for one of his artists!” Jaebeom snaps angrily. Nora stirs in his arms and lets out a long mewl of protest.

“It’s still not enough,” Jackson says. “That’s like trying to pin a busboy to the CEO of McDonald’s. There’s a lot of good busboys and girls out there just trying to make an honest living, you know?”

“Have you questioned Youngjae about him at all?” Jaebeom asks, shifting Nora so that she flops over his shoulder. Surprisingly, it seems to placate her, and she quiets down. “Or have you just been fooling around?”

“Oh,” Jackson hums, eyes glinting across at Jinyoung. “I see. You’re going to deflect, when I literally _just_ walked in on you fooling around with somebody?”

“Jinyoung isn’t involved,” Jaebeom growls.

“And neither is Youngjae,” Jackson says, crisply. “He has a legitimate career, like most of the artists on GDE. There’s a lot of money involved, clean _and_ dirty, and that always muddies the truth. We can’t make any sudden moves.”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond, stroking Nora as he paces back and forth. Jinyoung is certain he isn’t supposed to be hearing all of this, but it seems to be too late for them to reel it back in.

“You don’t trust me?” Jackson asks Jaebeom.

“I trust you,” Jaebeom spits out. “Because I _have_ to.” 

“Mm, good enough for me,” Jackson blows a kiss into the air. “Let’s go.”

He and Jaebeom head out together, Jinyoung staring in impatient shock as they pass. _“Um?”_ He calls after them.

Is he just supposed to go about the rest of his day like normal? 

Jackson keeps walking, but Jaebeom pauses in the hallway to turn back, cat wriggling in his clutch. “We’ll talk,” he promises Jinyoung, and then continues without waiting for his response. 

Jinyoung is in a daze, his mind turned upside down and inside out. He just nods to himself, watching them stride off.

 _‘There’s a lot of money involved,’_ he repeats to himself. And Jaebeom _has_ to trust Jackson?

Yugyeom’s words from the other night float back to Jinyoung with sharp, stabbing accuracy. Jaebeom _doesn’t get to make the same kind of choices._

It almost feels like he has too many puzzle pieces, now. Instead of being able to fit them all together, his mind just feels disorganized, weighted down with parts of the truth. 

But still, as he’s left with all of Jaebeom’s contrasts, he just can’t picture him as a bad person. Not from the grip on Jinyoung’s wrists, not from his desperation to get some sleep beside him. 

Yugyeom had told Jinyoung to trust him, if he couldn’t trust Jaebeom. Maybe it’s for his own good. It could be better for him to know less, in the long run. 

So Jinyoung swallows down his questions, and puts on a smiling face for his guests.

//

Early the next day, Youngjae starts up a live broadcast in the side yard. “Good morning, everybody!” He calls out, waving up at his selfie stick.

The screen explodes into hearts as the viewer count starts to rise exponentially. It’s a familiar sight to Youngjae, and he beams up at the camera as he imagines his fans’ surprise and delight at seeing a notification after so much silence.

He hadn’t cleared this broadcast with his management — but technically, he was never explicitly forbidden from livestreaming, either. He knows they’d say no if he asked, especially since Mino is supposed to be guarding the phone. But it’s always easier to ask for forgiveness than get permission.

Coco is still taking her time sniffing along the side of the house for a good spot, and Youngjae has to whirl around a few times to get her in frame with him. 

“I just brought Coco outside,” he says, walking slowly backwards. “And I thought it would be nice to say hi to you guys. It’s been a long time since we talked, and I don’t want you getting lonely.”

The comments crow back at him silently, in waves of _yes king,_ and _where are you oppa?_

“I’m on a little vacation,” he says. “It’s good to relax and let your mind heal sometimes, everyone.”

_Mind healing??_

_i hope you’re staying warm! go inside_

_Is he in rehab wtf_

“Oh,” Youngjae lets out a chuckle, but he wrinkles his brows. It’s concerning how quickly an audience can get carried away, so he tries to address this neatly. “It’s nothing serious! I’m staying at a bed & breakfast, and it’s really relaxing.”

The audience seems to simmer down as he trails them around the corner of the house into the backyard. Coco is being picky as usual, sniffing out every spot that isn’t covered in snow. He lets the phone swing around to see the infinity edge of the pool, and then back at his smiling face.

But his smile slips as he realizes he isn’t out here alone.

He spots Jackson gazing down across the valley floor by the edge of the yard, arms crossed and deep in thought.

“Hyung!” Youngjae calls out, turning around and peeking around his phone. “I’m filming a Live, but don’t worry, I don’t think I got you in frame for very long.”

Jackson peers back over his shoulder at him, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

_hyung??_

_omo who are you with_

_Lorenzo are you on vacation with friends??_

Jackson starts to stroll over to him, and Youngjae quickly flusters, glancing back and forth between his phone and his smiling face. 

_cutie pie!! love you_

_wait who is the guy?_

“Everyone,” Youngjae laughs, trying desperately to change the topic. “Have you ever gone on vacation with a naughty little dog? It seems like Coco thinks she can ignore all my rules just because we’re in a different place.”

_hi coco queen_

_Coco! ❤_

Youngjae smiles, peeking over at Coco to see if she’s camera-ready, but the little white dog is still in an unbecoming squat, so he winces and doesn’t move the phone.

When he looks back up, Jackson has moved to stand right in front of him, beaming from just outside the selfie stick’s range.

“Coco is in a business meeting,” Jackson calls out, and then chuckles at his own dorky joke.

Youngjae chokes on his own laugh, even as his heart hammers in his chest. The fans will definitely have heard him.

_whoooo is that_

_omg his voice is deep_

“All of the guests here have been really understanding,” Youngjae says to his fans, even as his smile is a bit strained. “It’s not easy to live with other people’s pets.”

Jackson looks concerned then, expression softening out as he seems to sense Youngjae’s discomfort.

“Hyung,” Youngjae says quietly, angling the phone a bit out of the way. “You really don’t have to be on camera, I’m sorry for catching you by surprise.”

“I don’t mind if you show me,” Jackson says gently, eyes warm as he takes another step closer. Youngjae’s hand twitches as he tries not to lurch backwards, and he shoots a stiff smile up at the camera. 

“Or I can leave, if that’s what you prefer?” Jackson whispers, gesturing back at the house.

Youngjae isn’t sure. He knows he doesn’t owe the fans a glimpse at somebody else, and least of all an entanglement he ought to be keeping secret. But they’ll be teasing him for the rest of the broadcast regardless, and if Jackson is game, it might be fun to show him some of the comments.

“Alright, everyone, would you like to say hello to one of my new friends?” He pulls his phone closer to scan through replies. 

_OPPA are you EMbarrassed_

_as long as we still see you_

_yesss!!_

Youngjae figures things are safe enough, and swings the stick and himself around to bump into Jackson’s shoulder.

“Ta-da!” He says. “This is my friend Jackson, everyone, say hi!”

Jackson waves up at the phone and smiles, lips curling into a cute little pout. “Hello Lorenzonators!” He calls out. “How are you?”

Youngjae blinks at him in surprise, still caught up by his saccharine-sweet expression. Who knew he would be such a natural?

Jackson is already chuckling as he reads off the screen, shoulder nudging behind Youngjae’s as he moves in closer.

_ummm i did not expect to swerve today??_

_whoa this guy is hot where ARE you_

_omg EYE—_

_say hi to Brazil!!_

_thank you for taking care of our lorenzie_

Youngjae’s heart twinges with the last line and beams a big, goofy smile back at Jackson, pleased and a little proud of his fans’ reactions. Clearly, they have good taste.

“Hi Brazil,” Jackson purrs at the phone. He’s caught up reading through all the comments, eyes glimmering in amusement. 

“Jackson came up here to snowboard,” Youngjae narrates, still watching him warmly. “And he taught everybody how to play Mafia.” 

Jackson looks back at him then, smile gentle with encouragement.

“Everyone,” Youngjae tears his eyes away from Jackson to gaze back up at the selfie stick. “Have you ever played that game? Isn’t it fun? I didn’t do so well—,” and he’s a little embarrassed, a little exhilarated.

But then, there’s a deafening crack.

Or is it a boom?

Youngjae can’t place the sound right away. But then, stomach lurching, it dawns on him.

It’s a gunshot, followed quickly by another one, ringing out across the cold expanse of the backyard. 


End file.
